Darkworld
by Chibizoo
Summary: There is a Darkworld that appears only at night, dominated by creatures of the supernatural. Their only restriction is that they may not reveal themselves to humans… if they dare avoid the consequences. [Shounen-ai warning]
1. The Nighthunter and the Child

Author's notes:  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh. Greater powers than I deserve to own it, but they own naught either.   
  
Warnings: Mild violence and shounen-ai, swearing. I have fixed the formatting now ^^;;;  
  
This fic was both inspired by both His Lordship Chaos's fic "Tales of the Dreamworld" and LJ Smith's "Nightworld" novel series. A big thanks to Petite-Hikari-san for spending the time and effort beta-ing this :)  
  
But enough about that. Sit back, relax, and let the chill night air sweep over your senses and dull your reality. Come and let me take you to the Darkworld.  
  
*************************************************************  
There is a separate world that lies like a shadow inside our own. Those that are a part of it come out only at night-time. They dominate, betray, attack, and love within their self-maintained society.   
  
The only restriction is that their world cannot be discovered by humans  
  
because the humans would do anything to destroy them  
  
for they are against the will   
  
of God   
  
*******************************************  
  
Darkworld   
  
Chapter 1 - The Nighthunter and the Child  
His foot splashed noisily in a puddle.   
  
The figure swore as he heard the chorus of excited shouts nearby. He clutched his wounded right arm; some of the blood dripped thickly onto the wet pavement.   
  
He heard footsteps nearing him and his eyes narrowed as he slunk closer to the wall and held his breath. A pair of haughty laughing voices pierced the tension.  
  
"He's somewhere around here."  
  
"Huh. We'll get that bastard. He can't run far - not with a cut like that."  
  
Melting within the shadows, he watched the two disappear before daring to relax. Even under the veil of midnight darkness, he was not safe. The figure tensed his leg muscles and leapt into the air, soaring to an incredible height. Above the alley corridors, the figure was easily exposed by the moonlight, revealing a beautiful youth bearing a crown of scarlet, gold and ebony-black hair.   
  
He grunted as he landed on the rooftop, swaying precariously as blood continued to dribble from his cut. The youth's ruby eyes were unfocused in pain. Yet he refused to give up, gathering the remaining dregs of his energy to leap across several rooftops. His cape fluttered like a regal pair of wings behind him, half-covering his pale skin.   
  
Something moved close to him. He had no time to react before a horrendously distorted creature slammed into him in mid-leap. Its pair of iron-cold hands grappled at his neck.   
  
Hair and clothing fluttering madly against the wind of the impact, the youth snarled and twisted as he tried to shove the creature off. They remained suspended in mid-air for a moment, locked in an aerial embrace before falling rapidly, the attacking creature still latched onto the spiky-haired youth.   
  
The youth's scarlet eyes narrowed in warning. With a cry of absolute rage, he bared his teeth, showing for the first time a pair of ivory incisors below his upper lip. A glowing insignia flared to life on his forehead like a third eye.   
  
Everything within a ten-meter radius suddenly burst into a brilliance of ruby-red light. There was not enough time for the attacking creature to scream before it disintegrated into nothingness.   
  
The youth swung his body sideways in mid-fall and grabbed a nearby railing with his injured arm. He winced as the pain dug into him. Swearing and sweating profusely, he grabbed the railing with his other hand and pulled himself upwards, landing gracelessly on what appeared to be the stairs of an emergency exit. The worn and rusted metal bit at his skin, but he ignored the discomfort and collapsed in exhaustion.   
  
At that moment, the sky chose to rain.   
  
The youth blinked owlishly as he felt the wet substance glance off his skin and then pummel him until he was numb with cold. His hair, now damp, sagged lifelessly on either side of his face; his clothes a ragged, dirty mess. Slight tendrils of mist escaped through his lips between each heavy breath.   
  
The youth - not a youth but a nighthunter - forced his body upright and leaned towards the railing. Rain poured from the skies to hit the pavement in thick, satisfied smacks. A flash of lightning arced snake-like against the murky night sky.  
  
Battered and exhausted, he threw his back his head and laughed. The roar of the rain and thundering clouds drowned out the mad roar of his laughter.   
  
**********************************************  
Yuugi breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the end credits roll. After what seemed like hours of fear and terror, he was finally free from the captivating screen of death.   
  
In other words, it was Friday night, and Yuugi, along with the rest of his friends, were up late watching TV. This time, it was at Jounochi's house and the blonde had decided to rent a classic horror movie.   
  
'Which he did to purposely spite me,' Yuugi thought to himself. The small boy looked at his friends, and hid a smug smile as he realized that he wasn't the only one relieved.   
  
Jounochi turned off the TV with a flick of the remote control. The blonde groaned as he realized that the VCR was still playing and reluctantly shuffled towards the humming machine to fumble with the "Stop" button. Two other people were still glued to the couch; the first frozen in fear, the latter frozen in sheer disbelief at the bad special effects.   
  
"I am _never_ watching that again." The white-haired teen on the couch shuddered and drew his knees closer towards his chest. He closed his eyes, mind still reeling. "Why do they have to make horror movies so bloody?"  
  
The other, a platinum-blonde youth, grinned wickedly. "Why, Ryou, the better to scare you with." He gave a small frown. "Unfortunately, the effects were a bit too cheesy, if you ask me."   
  
"I was scared too," Yuugi confessed. He gave a nervous laugh. "I don't mind some things, like vampires, because most of the time they look like people. I just don't like things that twist and become grossly mutated."  
  
"It's also bad when horror movies enhance the gross and disturbing parts of what could be normal things," Ryou added in, sensing the shift in topic. "I mean, I like werewolves and all, but do they _have_ to claw at their faces and rip off their skin to transform?"   
  
The platinum-blonde, Malik, gave a wry smile. "Or even better, if they use possessions. Where the attacker looks completely human and innocent, and then butchers the victims into bloody pieces."  
  
"Hate to interrupt this," Jounochi suddenly yawned, "but it's probably really late right now. You guys should be getting home."  
  
"Well, I refuse to go home in _that_." Malik jerked his thumb towards the window, where heavy accents of rain trickled down the glass in rivulets.   
  
Jounochi simply shrugged. "Your call. I'm going to go to my room to crash. You guys can decide who gets what room." And with that, he meandered to the washroom and slammed the door.  
  
Malik, Ryou, and Yuugi stared at each other, dumbfounded. Realization then hit their heads at the same time.   
  
There were only two other rooms available.   
  
"I get a room!" they all shouted simultaneously.   
  
The rest was pandemonium.   
  
*************************************  
  
How long he stayed in the rain he could not remember. When one had lived for as long as he had, the nuances of time no longer bothered him.  
  
The ruby-eyed nighthunter glanced at his still bleeding forearm. He squinted, lifting his arm closer for detailed inspection. Something was preventing his wound from healing.   
  
He had no other choice. The nighthunter took his other unwounded hand and dug his fingers deep into his cut, moving them to feel around. He almost collapsed from the incredible pain but his fingers continued to dig and search. At last, he was rewarded when he pulled out something between his forefinger and thumb.   
  
It was as thin as a needle, covered in blood. The nighthunter placed the object in his open palm and let the rainwater wash away the blood. Even though it could barely be seen, it glistened a malevolent green, almost glowing on its own.   
  
He hissed. "Snakewood." The single word shot venomously from his lips, rich and cold. He let the offending object fall downwards onto the pavement.   
  
The pain was dying down now. The otherworldly - for he could not be of this world - youth leaned backwards with a soft sigh. He tilted his head upwards to let some of the sweet rainwater dribble into his mouth. Several times he swallowed, licking his lips slowly as if suffering from great thirst.   
  
A great bang suddenly jerked the nighthunter back into awareness. Eyes narrowed, he tensed his muscles and snarled, trying to make his form appear as menacing as possible to any potential attackers.   
  
He found himself staring at a human. She stood within her bedroom, head and rotund chest sticking out to hold the window shutters open. It was only moments before she noticed him standing in the rain.   
  
"What are you doing here?" the irate woman snapped, plump figure jostling in annoyance. "You better leave or I'll report you to the police."   
  
The nighthunter looked at her in an almost bemused manner. "I don't think you should tell me what to do." His voice sounded slightly hoarse, but still as powerful and resonant as before.   
  
"Excuse me young man," the woman huffed, "but you are in _no_ state to argue with me." Her beady eyes gazed suspiciously at him. "Why are you out at a time like this anyway?"  
  
He felt himself reacting before he could stop it. She was only a couple meters away; easily covered by the span of a few steps. His feet took one trembling step after another, bridging the gap between the two until he was face to face with her. He gazed at her with insatiable eyes and raised his upper lip to expose his fangs.   
  
Suddenly he stopped, his trance broken. He stared almost guiltily at the woman, hesitating.   
  
The woman did not hesitate. She screamed, shrill voice piercing the rain and echoing in the murky darkness.   
  
His eyes shot wide open. At this rate, the woman's screaming would awaken the entire neighbourhood, attracting those who sought to kill him. He forced himself to gaze right into the human's eyes. Her screaming immediately strangled to a half-gargle; the type a prey makes before it accepts its death.   
  
Eyes glowing an intense crimson-red, he did not release her until he once again extended his fangs and snaked his head underneath the woman's frozen, pudgier chin.   
  
Eye contact broken, the woman once again had control of her body.   
  
It was too late.   
  
She could only stare in surprise and terror as he sunk his fangs deep into her vulnerable throat. Fresh crimson blood dribbled from the corners of his lips down his chin. They made no stain as they fell in droplets onto his pure-black clothing.   
  
Half-sheltered by the alcove of the window, he drank, paying no heed to anything else around him. All that mattered was the vital liquid burning his mouth with flames of pleasure. He closed his eyes. His pale cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips firmer onto the woman's neck to drain the last of the warm, crimson liquid.   
  
After an eternity of heartbeats fading to silence, he reluctantly pulled away, pushing his latest victim backwards into the room. Her body fell with a soft thud on the carpeted ground, glassy eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling.   
  
He slid through the window after her and kneed by her prone body. He gently pressed his fingers against her neck, covering up the two identical holes on her pale skin. The third-eye insignia once again flared to life on his forehead before vanishing completely. There was no sign of the puncture-wounds as if they had never been.  
  
Feeling smug and sated, the nighthunter stood up and stretched his cramped muscles. His wet clothes dripped water onto the thick carpet as he walked towards the window and climbed out.   
  
He closed the wooden shutters and stretched, arching his back and showing off his canines in a wide yawn. The nighthunter froze in mid-stretch, sensing someone else watching him. Slowly he turned his cold ruby eyes around...  
  
... and came face to face with a pair of violet ones.   
  
******************************************  
  
Yuugi hated being short. At school, it meant not being able to make the basketball team, having instead to satisfy himself watching his friends score points and congratulate each other. Out of school, it meant being the brunt of all jokes, thus diminishing a large part of his long-suffering ego.   
  
'And now,' the short, violet-eyed teen thought to himself, absently brushing a jagged golden bang back into his crown of scarlet and black hair, 'it meant _not_ getting a bedroom.'   
  
Yuugi sighed uncomfortably as he turned and twisted yet again. The scratchy couch fabric bit at his exposed skin, rewarding each of his movements with an insatiable itch. At this rate, he doubted if he would even get comfortable, lest fall asleep.   
  
He threw the covers over his head, but succeeded only in getting himself extremely hot. Thoroughly fed up with the couch, Yuugi stood up and walked across the vacant living room towards the window. Glistening trails of silver and white laced down the thick glass panels, accompanied by the dull patter of raindrops. Ghostly white squares imprinted themselves shadow-like on the living room carpet.   
  
The small teen fiddled with the window lock before sliding the glass panel wide open. He was immediately greeted by a blast of rain and chill air. Yuugi blinked in surprise before wiping dry his face with his shirtsleeve.   
  
The moon was especially large tonight, peeking out strategically from an opening between the thick rain clouds. The combination made an eerie and supernatural sight; like the glowing face of a goddess shedding icy-cold tears.   
  
Curious and awed by the sight, Yuugi ignored the rainwater blatantly pummelling his face and stuck his head out the window to get a better look. A muffled sound of wood slamming against wood caught his attention.   
  
His eyes widened. Outside the window standing on the emergency exit railing was a person who looked like the mirror image of himself. Upon closer inspection, Yuugi realized that there were some considerable differences.   
  
The other held a tall and regal air, face confident and unnaturally beautiful. His clothes were drenched so that they clung to his skin, flaunting his sinuous muscles and lean figure. The figure chose at that moment to crane his neck and yawn, full ruby lips suddenly parting to reveal a set of unnaturally long canines.   
  
Yuugi's heart began to pound uncontrollably. Fangs. The strange look-alike of him had fangs.   
  
The other suddenly whipped around, as if sensing Yuugi's presence, and Yuugi found himself gazing into a pair of menacing ruby eyes.   
  
**********************************************  
  
Never before had the nighthunter seen a _human_ that resembled him so closely. He glared at the human accusingly, maintaining eye contact to stop any potential screaming.   
  
Damn this human. Now he had to kill this boy too. A pity the boy looked so much like him but the rules of his world had to be followed at all costs. No human was allowed to see him and live to tell the tale.   
  
The ruby-eyed nighthunter suppressed any compassion and forced his eyes to harden. He gave a coy smile as he ambled over towards the human-boy and cupped his icy-cold hand on the boy's cheek. It was flushed and warm to the touch.   
  
He was still hungry anyway. The woman's blood had not been enough to satisfy him; not with the recent rash of battles and his sudden increase in appetite. No - one human's blood was far from enough. He tilted the boy's fragile chin upwards with his thumb and caressed the human's neck, looking for the right blood vessel hiding under the boy's skin.   
  
"Are you going to kill me?"  
  
He jerked his head upwards, ruby eyes whirling with surprise. The violet eyes staring innocently back at him brought a twinge of guilt into his heart.   
  
"Am I going to die?"  
  
He took a long look at this boy standing in front of him. Somehow, this human could speak even under the influence of his trance. He forced his lips into an unenthusiastic half-smile.   
  
"Perhaps. And perhaps it would be better if you accepted it." His voice was deep and harsh compared to the human's quiet, lilting one.   
  
"Oh. I see." The human-child seemed more disappointed than anything else. He said nothing more.   
  
Slightly baffled at such acquiescence, even more so at his lack of control over his victim, the nighthunter gazed at the boy in half apology before lowering his head.   
  
A glint of gold caught his eye. He was looking downwards at a strange relic the human boy wore at chest-level. It seemed to be constructed of pure gold, a three-dimensional pyramid hanging upside-down. A single eye decorated the center of the relic, the very same Eye that occasionally manifested on his forehead.   
  
"The Millennium Puzzle," he hissed, backing away. The nighthunter continued to distance himself from the human until his heel stumbled on the railing behind him. His cold crimson eyes were wide with disbelief. "Impossible."  
  
The relic dangling from a single cord around the boy's neck stared at the nighthunter tauntingly. The ruby-eyed figure shuddered.   
  
The Millennium Puzzle, one of the fabled seven Millennium Items, whose powers were diametrically opposite to the creatures of the Darkworld. Alone, one item had the power to burn a hundred souls into withering ashes. The power of all could seal the Darkworld into nothingness.  
  
And he was a creature of the Darkworld.   
  
The boy suddenly spoke. "Are you a vampire?"  
  
He blinked, ruby eyes bewildered. Was that what they called him? He had heard the reference a few times, though he thought they were a different mythical species consisting of wrinkled, ashen-faced zombies who crawled around and had no tolerance for garlic and sunlight. Well, it was half-true.   
  
"Maybe."  
  
Perhaps the child-human had not grasped the reality of the situation, for he continued to question the ruby-eyed nighthunter with a hungry curiousity.   
  
"Why are you afraid of my Puzzle?" The human smiled, amethyst eyes glowing with splendour until his face seemed bathed in cherubic innocence. "It's not a relic of God."  
  
He barked out a derisive laugh before he could stop himself. The nighthunter's shoulders shook with cold laughter, face contorted into a sinister, bitter grin. "God? Fear God? Perhaps the name should be replaced with 'hate'." A part of him cautioned that he should not get too close to the human, but he was curious as to how such a boy could have obtained one of the fabled Millennium Items. A pity that the nighthunter himself could not take it. Well, it was better to have an innocent possess an Item than someone with more destructive purposes.  
  
The human-child looked sad. "Why do you hate God? It was He who created this world."  
  
"For you humans, perhaps." His ruby eyes grew cold and distant. "But for us, we have no mercy from your God. It was under the will of God that we were sought out and destroyed."  
  
"I don't get it." The human looked genuinely broken. "You're so... beautiful. It wouldn't make sense for God to hate you just like that." There was a flicker of motion as the boy dropped his hand which had been reaching out towards the other's cold pale cheek.   
  
He sighed. "The history of our enmity is longer and darker than you could ever comprehend. In some ways you are right: I am a vampire of the legends. In others, you are wrong. I - we are not descended from Satan. There is a species that is said to be his spawn, but we... vampires serve no one."  
The boy frowned. "You don't even have a leader within your own society?"  
  
"Perhaps he will come one day," the nighthunter- or perhaps vampire- gave a wry smile. "But till then, he flees and hides. Soon he will run out of hiding places."  
  
"Would he like to hide in my house? It's quite safe where I live."  
  
He jerked his head up in surprise. The naivete of this human-child was astounding. This human, taken into the wrong hands, could be easily manipulated. He feared those consequences.  
  
"Perhaps he would." The nighthunter concluded that he would have to watch over the Puzzle. There would be no other way to protect, or at least hinder it.   
  
"Then I would like to know his name so I could recognize him."   
  
The ruby-eyed vampire thought deeply. He had had many names throughout his lifespan until names meant nothing to him. But he would make one up for this child, this strange look-alike human's satisfaction.   
  
"Yami. You may call him Yami."  
Silence ensued as both stared at each other with a tinge of fear and excitement. Their meeting was an absolute paradox; a vampire forced to accept the darkness and a human reared to hate it.   
  
The nighthunter brought a trembling hand to brush away the boy's bangs and stroke his cheek. The human did not flinch, though his eyes were large and full of awe.   
He suddenly retracted his hand, ruby eyes narrowing. Someone was coming; the vampire could sense the presence. He quickly motioned for the human to hide, closing the window as silently as possible before moving towards the edge of the railing. The rain dripped freely over his already-soaked clothes, moonlight reflecting off his cape in a crystalline sheen.   
  
The nighthunter leaned against the railing and scanned the thick darkness and rain for motion. He growled slightly in impatience. "Come out, whoever you are!" The third-eye insignia on his forehead flared slightly, amplifying his voice so that it resonated in the murky shadows.   
  
"Of course Pharaoh. I would do no less." From the folds of the darkness emerged a solitary figure. He mock-bowed to the nighthunter. In the glimmer of moonlight, the stranger appeared handsome. His long silver hair hung down to his shoulders, some veiling one of his eyes. He could have easily been mistaken for a human were if not for the fact that he was floating in the air. Rainwater bounced off an invisible barrier around the figure.   
  
"Sorcerer!" The ruby-eyed vampire clenched his hands angrily. "The affairs of nighthunters should be kept within their own kindred. Why are you messing with our problems?"  
  
The sorcerer shrugged. "If it benefits me, then I have a great reason to 'mess around'." Still suspended in mid-air, he began to walk, an eerie sight as he advanced with no surface to tread on. "So we meet Pharaoh. They say you are the last of the original Heirs, the ones born with royal blood. Surely you will not back away from a challenge by a lowly sorcerer like me."  
  
The nighthunter knew there was something wrong. And yet, there was no way out of it. "Then come fight me, sorcerer. Destroy me, if you can." He bared his fangs and heightened his senses, bracing his muscles in preparation.   
  
Electricity arched over the sky directly above the sorcerer's head. It suddenly changed directions, twisting sideways to shoot blindingly fast towards the vampire.   
  
The nighthunter moved, leaping into the air. The bolt of jagged blue lightning hit the metal stairway and burst into a shower of sparks, breaking the emergency exit into two smouldering pieces. Ignoring the sight, the nighthunter landed softly on the building rooftop. He scanned his surroundings before jumping off the edge, shoving his feet against the nearby wall to propel himself at full momentum towards his opponent.   
  
The sorcerer waited for his opponent to near him. Just moments before impact, the sorcerer grabbed the nighthunter's charging figure by the cloak and pulled the ruby-eyed vampire towards him until they were face to face. The nighthunter raised his upper lip in indignation, a low growl escaping his throat as he struggled to move away.   
  
"I don't think so, Pharaoh." The sorcerer yanked the cloak, stopping the vampire's struggles. The silver-haired man extended his free hand to release tendrils of white mist. They snaked up the nighthunter's body before crystallizing. "A pity this has to end so soon. I was enjoying it."  
  
The vampire's scarlet eyes narrowed as he realized that he had no other choice. His third eye flared with crimson-gold power. An aura of intangible darkness surrounded the vampire.   
  
Small perforations began to plague the crystallized shell that trapped the nighthunter, fracturing into a network of cracks. At last, no longer able to hold the pressure, the cast quivered and burst in a shower of glass rain as a pair of ebony wings burst from the nighthunter's back. They slowed his descent until he was suspended in midair by hovering leathery wingtips.   
  
Forehead still emblazoned with the third eye, the vampire traced his freed arms into an arc-like pattern, a trail of scarlet light following his motion. The ruby light hardened to form a wicked scythe.   
"Come and get me sorcerer." Gripping his weapon with both hands, the nighthunter ascended until he was again standing on the rooftop. His wings faded into dark mist and disappeared the moment his feet touched the asphalt surface. The burning-red insignia brandished on his forehead softened in intensity.   
  
The sorcerer laughed. "So, you _do_ have that power. I thought that your Magick was just a legend." Almost without effort, he drifted upwards within his invisible shield to land on the rooftop. The silver-haired man extended his arms mockingly. "Come, Pharaoh. Attack me. I am weaponless."  
  
Clenching the handle of his scythe until his knuckles were white, the nighthunter hesitated between instinct and caution. "You're just bluffing."  
  
"Why don't you find out?" The silver-haired man shrugged almost indifferently.   
  
Shrugging logic aside, the nighthunter leapt into the air in a blur of motion and swung the curved blade of his weapon down at his opponent. It sliced the sorcerer through his chest. There was no blood. With a final mocking laugh, the silver-haired man collapsed into ashes.   
  
The nighthunter was still holding his scythe in his attack position. His arms trembled slightly before the scythe hit the cement ground with a loud clatter and disappeared with a burst of crimson light. Kneeling down on the wet platform, the ruby-eyed vampire grabbed a handful of the ashes and experimentally smelled them. He then rolled the remains between his index finger and thumb and watched it stick to his skin in grey blotches.   
  
"Mud." The nighthunter gave a disdainful sneer. "I was fighting with a decoy." Then the truth hit him. If this was just a copy of the actual opponent, then he was in grave danger. Strong sorcerers, though mortal like humans, could almost attain immortality with their power.   
  
The ruby-eyed vampire stood motionless. From the rooftops surrounding him appeared several shadowy figures, hovering menacingly under the moonlight, faces veiled. They began to accumulate until he was outnumbered by almost a hundredfold. Not only did they surround the nighthunter on all sides but also below him, crowding the alley or hovering precariously on railings.   
  
The moonlight illuminated only his figure. The nighthunter looked around in dismay, refusing to back towards the sheer numbers. He collected the last of his energy and let the Magick burn freely through his veins as the third eye glowed.   
  
"Did the sorcerer send you?" His challenge was blunt and informal. He was not afraid to die, as long as he took down several in the process.   
  
A sudden chorus of awed whispers broke through the dark multitudes. Their excitement intensified, the murmurs converging into the soft call of a single word. The chanting grew louder and louder. It was a symphony of unified cries.   
  
He blinked. The word sounded from all directions until he could no longer deny what they shouted. The ruby-eyed vampire assumed a different air. He stood up, tall, regal and proud once more, facing the sea of shadows around him.   
  
They were acknowledging him. They had found their long-lost Heir.   
  
"Pharoah!"  
  
Ceremony complete, the final word echoed in the air above the silence, still ringing with a thousand voices. Now a sea of expectant faces stared back. They were no longer veiled but familiar, the faces of comrades and allies occasionally decorating the massive throng.  
  
His throat constricted with raw emotion. The ruby-eyed nighthunter looked around as if to confirm that it wasn't an illusion. The figures surrounding him stared back, quiet and eager.   
  
"So the time has come." He almost started at his own voice that poured from him to fill the excited silence. He continued. "Five-thousand years ago, my father died and I was forced from the throne into exile by the humans. He was the first nighthunter, but I took the blame for his actions. I have lived in exile ever since, running from those who feared and despised me. In those five-thousand years, I have made many enemies. They still hunt me now, and if you call me your leader and ask me to take the throne once again, then you too will become their enemies." The ruby-eyed vampire paused. "Are you still willing to follow me?"  
  
There was no hesitation in the roar of enthusiastic voices.   
  
He waited for the sound to die down. A part of him expected them to leave, but none did. They remembered the legacy of his father and the incredible power of the Heirs, the original vampires of pure blood. They recalled the Legend of rebirth, of the new Heir reclaiming the throne and leading the nighthunters to unity and a reign without chaos or bitter rivalry among each other.   
  
There were still those among his species who hated and feared him. They preferred individuality and isolation. But the majority of them had overcome their hesitation for a chance to change their status. They wanted to be known and feared once again in the Darkworld.   
  
He knew of this and of the heavy burden it placed on his shoulders. And yet, he could not refuse. Those who bore the ruby-coloured third eye on their foreheads, the mark of the Heirs, had long passed away or been killed. He was the last Heir.   
  
He was their Pharaoh again, come at last again to a long-empty throne.   
  
At last he nodded. "Then I accept. As Pharaoh, as the new Heir, I ask only for your loyalty. Those who betray me will be punished heavily."   
  
There was a small ruckus that suddenly disturbed the formality of the situation. The several vampires involved were vainly trying to cover the noise and disturbance.   
  
The ruby-eyed vampire shifted his gaze towards the sound. "What is it?"  
  
The handful of nighthunters turned around with shamed, guilty faces. One of them had someone wrapped between his arms, silencing it with one hand.   
  
It then occurred to the Heir exactly _where_ those nighthunters were. Some of them were still balanced on the broken emergency exit.   
  
Heart pounding, the ruby-eyed vampire leapt downwards until he landed on the railing and stood in front of the nighthunter holding the figure captive.   
  
"Pharaoh." The other nighthunter bowed his head, avoiding the Heir's cold, crimson eyes. "I found this human watching our ceremony. I am sorry that I did not dispose of him earlier."  
  
The human held under the other nighthunter's grip extended a trembling hand towards the Heir. Large amethyst eyes wide and pleading, he uttered a single word.   
  
"Yami."  
  
The Millennium Puzzle dangled from the boy's chest, but no one else seemed to notice it. All they saw was a lowly human that needed to be punished.  
  
Perhaps now was the time to test their loyalty. The Pharaoh of the nighthunters motioned for the human to be set free and took the boy between his own cold arms. A twinge of protectiveness stabbed at his heart, but he convinced himself that he only needed the boy for the Puzzle.   
  
The ruby-eyed vampire held the boy for all the vampires to see. "From now on, this human is under my protection. No nighthunter shall harm him and those who do will be sentenced to immediate death."  
  
He listened to his own words fade away. There was silence where a protest had been expected.   
  
The other nighthunter, the one who had addressed the Pharaoh, broke the silence with his strong alto. "You heard the Pharaoh! The boy shall not be harmed!" He looked around at his fellow comrades, waiting for their reply.   
  
The following response was instantaneous. Every nighthunter roared in agreement and chanted out the Pharaoh's decree.   
  
"The human shall not be harmed!"  
  
From the darkness hiding behind a far away corner lurked a single figure. His silvery hair flashed in the moonlight before he disappeared.   
  
  
****************************************************  
  
End notes:  
  
Well, hoped you enjoyed it~   
  
Eevee muse: How could they? You just borrowed all those stereotypical plots from those other vampire fics.   
  
Zoo: -_-;;; Have some faith in me. I have plot twists ready. *pauses*. Well, now I do ^_^  
  
Eevee muse: *facefaults*  
Prelude to the next chapter:  
  
(3 weeks after Yuugi first met Yami)  
  
There was a faint tap on his windowsill. Slowly Yuugi crawled out of his bed, rubbing his eyes blearily as we walked across the room. Without a second moment's thought, he unlatched the window lock and opened the shutters wide open. The teen gave a small yawn as a dark-clad figure outside the window slid in.   
"Hi Yami."   
  
The nighthunter nodded. "Sorry I couldn't come earlier. I had some... business to take care of."  
  
"It's okay." Yuugi smiled. "You're the Pharaoh. You must have a lot of things to do."  
  
A small sigh escaped the other's lips. The ruby-eyed vampire absently closed the window shutters and faced the night sky outside. "It's not just us nighthunters, Yuugi. There are others, many different types that call the Darkworld their home. They too can only come out at night time."  
  
"Really?" The small boy looked more surprised than anything else. He leaned eagerly towards the taller figure. "Could you explain?" Upon seeing the other's reluctance, Yuugi opened his large violet eyes as wide as possible and Yami gave his best bambi-eyed expression.   
  
The nighthunter found himself unable to resist such cuteness. "All right, all right." He scowled. "I'll tell you a story then."   
His deep ruby eyes clouded over in reminiscence. "Let me explain the Dreamwolves first. They are like ghostly wolves, with pure white-fur highly valued among us nighthunters for its cloaking ability. Dreamwolves too have a special power. They can move through dreams, and see every human's wandering mind. Yet, like all creatures of the Darkworld, they are not allowed to interfere or reveal themselves to the humans..." 


	2. The Watcher and the Dreamer

Author's notes:

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh. 

Warning: Mild swearing, psychological insanity, you know the drill…

Answers to review commentary (cause Zoo took so LONG in updating!):

**Alecto Perdita:** *grins* I better see that contest fic up soon! ^_~

**Petite-Hikari:** 'Literary-talents'? Ohhhh.. you mean my massive ramblings ^^;;;

**Fuzzy Coconut**: Actually, nighthunters are vampires – I just gave them a fancy name XD

**Shenya:** Are my fics long? Well, does that make up for my laziness in updating?

**Burning-Yami-Rain:** Tenku! I'll try and update ASAP, thought that depends how I define it ne?

**r*a*d*i*a*n*y:** 'Oneesan'? Whoo! I've got an imoto-san! ^-^

**AngelEyes:** *sniffles* thanks for the encouragement –meesa so touched~

**Mistykasumi:** Gomen about the formatting. I've fixed it now just for you ;)

**Neko-chan:** *is bonked by the frying pan o' death* x.X Hey! I  need those brain cells for my chem test! *thinks* Actually, never mind ^^;; keep on thwacking

**Angel/DemonGardian**: I'll update 'Nocturne'… erm… *coughs* maybe before summer break?

**Sailor Comet**: Oh! Can I add some Ryou insta-angst? *giggles insanely and attempts to dodge Sam-chan's bondage whip o' death*

**Lily-chan:** By bad guy, d'you mean my Pega-kun ^^()? Bakura doesn't appear until… later

**Tenshimagic**: Gah! Stop calling me 'sama'!! *thud* As for Yuugi… well, you'll find out, won't you?

**Myst-Lady:** Too bad can't write for my contest ;_;. What have you been up to these days?

**KittyKatu:** Tenku for your compliment ^^=

**Silver Dragon:** Walls? Oh yes, I love walls! In fact, that's where I lost half my brain cells (half because I already lost the other half)

**Tuulikki:** *big pause* I don't remember writing "Darkworld". You sure it was me?

**Bishiehuggler**: Welcome back!! Hope you stay for the ride *grins*

And of course a big domo arigatou to PH-san for beta-ing this ^-^

Anything with squiggly brackets around it (like ~*~ this ~*~) means a brief flashback 

NOTE: The main character of this chapter is NOT a character I made up. He is exactly as I would see him if he was placed without malice in an AU. And if you can't grasp the clues I gave you, who _else_ would I pair (and contrast) with Ryou?

***************************************************

There is a separate world that lies like a shadow inside our own. Those that are a part of it come out only at night-time. They dominate, betray, attack, and love within their self-maintained society. 

The only restriction is that their world cannot be discovered by humans

because the humans would do anything to destroy them

for they are against the will 

of God  

*********************************************************

Chapter 2 - The Watcher and the Dreamer

"Good night mommy."

She shut her eyes as the door to her room closed with a soft click. Quietly she pulled the covers up to her chin. 

He watched all of this. That was the sole reason of his existence – just to tread and watch from places others did not remember. His keen amber eyes stared, unblinking. A blast of wind pushed against his unmoving form, rippling his ghostly white fur. His sharp ears flickered and betrayed his impatience.

            The girl inside her room, swathed in a warm nest of blankets like a sacrificial victim, was ready. 

            He grinned and trotted lightly on padded feet that left behind no paw prints. The creature of the Darkworld slid effortlessly through the solid wall separating him from the child. He looked at her, innocent and youthful, sleeping soundlessly amongst stuffed animals and atrociously colourful paintings. 

            The lupine creature leaned backwards on his haunches before springing into the air, forepaws sprawled as if to slam into the sleeping girl. He disappeared before he could touch her. 

            The girl slept as soundlessly as before. 

*********************************

            It was hard for those who had never seen one to believe what he was. Even creatures of the Darkworld mistook his kind for shapeshifters – beings with the ability to change forms at will. 

            He was wolf-like in form, with lustrous white fur and haunting amber eyes. He could move ghost-like through barriers and travel through entire dimensions in his spirit-form without being noticed. 

            He could not be noticed. He was a Dreamwolf, after all. 

            Dreamwolves also did something else besides travelling. They were watchers. 

            So now he stood within the human's girl's vast dreaming mind. Large oversized blocks were piled into a ludicrous castle. Magenta and violet flowers protruded randomly from the lilac-cushioned ground. 

            In her own dream, she was giggling. He sat on his haunches and watched as she constructed a magnificent playground from the swirling colours around her. There she built a large toy dragon, one that followed her around, a goofy smile plastered to its plush face. 

            This was what fuelled his dark heart and kept it beating. He consumed nothing else but this vigour within dreams, drinking it in as it emanated in bursts from the child's imagination.  He lapped up the creative energy greedily.  It would replenish itself the next day, or rather, the next night, when he wandered into another human's dreams to feed. 

            The dreamwolf lay sprawled and sated against the ground in satisfaction. He let a sigh of content escape his pure white muzzle. The girl was singing now, her childish voice rich in gaiety. Shifting his head to one side, the dreamwolf listened, letting his ears collect the pure, unfaltering notes.

She suddenly stopped singing. 

His heart plummeted. Something had happened.

A million warnings flashed in his mind. He immediately leapt up. Through a haze of confusion, he tried to gather his wits and collect enough mind-Energy to travel out of the dream back to reality.

A shrill scream pierced the tension. It was the cry of the indignant and wounded, of a soul in agony. It escalated in intensity before it was suddenly cut off. 

The dream world of colourful block-castles began to wither and crumble, the soft fabric breaking into jagged snarls of blood red and ebony. Crimson blood oozed out from the ground and stained the colourful world its single shade.  The entire dream gave a terrible shudder. 

The girl was dying. He sensed it immediately, from the way her dream twisted and roared into a chaotic mess to the deep red now plaguing the entire expanse like an ocean of blood. A feeling of despair suddenly overtook his heart. If she died, he would be trapped in this dream with no way out. There would be no conscious gate to allow him to travel between the worlds of the living and of the dreaming. 

He had to get out! His paws dipped frantically into the widening expanse of crimson blood, creating scarlet ripples with every bound as he vainly searched for a gateway out.

There! He could sense the barest flicker of consciousness, faint like the stutter of candle light, vulnerable to the softest sigh. He forced his legs to propel him at full speed towards the portal; the last chance he had to escape this dying girl's dream. 

It was too late. 

Everything around him suddenly went dark. Even the crimson blood lapping around him had disappeared. Alone he stood, lost in oblivion. 

He was trapped.  

*********************************************

Dreamwolves are by nature pack creatures. 

Only now, for the first time in his life, did he realize how truly alone he was. He was isolated in this permanent darkness, shut away from all consciousness save his own. Just like how nighthunters needed blood for sustenance, dreamwolves required the dream-energy of humans. Sooner or later, he would starve and die.

The brutal honesty was driving him insane, just as the pervading sense of doom and permanent enclosure clawed at his mind. A small whimper escaped his throat, and he lifted his muzzle, releasing a mournful howl. The heart-wrenching notes hovered in the air before the silence consumed them. He let his chill voice rise again without hope or conviction. It was not a plea for help but a self-lament, a funeral hymn he sang for himself as the energy dissipated from his trembling body. 

At last he lay down, the darkness consuming him. His haunting amber eyes flickered once with denial and fear. Then, helplessness sunk in again and he forced his taut muscles calm, forced his great ivory head to lie down in the darkness, ready to succumb to death. 

In his haze of half-death, he thought he heard a voice speaking to him. It was a rich tenor, filled with an unquenchable sorrow like his own.   

"Forgive me," the voice whispered quietly. 

The dreamwolf dared to lift his head and look around his dark confines. A faint flicker of determination rekindled in his eyes for the briefest of seconds as he looked around, believing for a moment that someone had come to rescue him. There was no one. The gates of consciousness had disappeared long ago with the girl's death. 

"I'm sorry. I should have known that-." A choked sob escaped, causing the voice to break into trembling, soft breaths. Moments later, they calmed. "Remember yesterday? We went towards the park and you told me how pretty the cherry blossoms were at this season. Some of the petals were falling off the branches, and I thought you looked so pretty when they collected in your hair."

The dreamwolf could actually see every image. The words lifted a heavy weight off him, and the stillness seemed to stir. He closed his amber eyes and listened to the voice's soothing words. They tasted of dream-essence and filled him with energy.  

"I wondered where you would be when you grew up. I would stand and watch you run towards the playground, watching you dash towards the swings and say 'push me brother!'"

Silence. 

Like a leviathan, the darkness suddenly jerked. An explosion of light hit the darkwolf, overbearing to his senses. The mind – the dead mind he lay, trapped – had somehow been reawakened!

 It was fading quickly, the temporary consciousness of this not-quite dead girl's mind. It was more than enough. 

The darkwolf forced his reeling senses together and with a desperate lunge, mentally willed his spirit out of the bleak confines. His soul tingled as he was carried away from the girl's semi-conscious cage back into reality. He felt his body re-solidify, once again assuming the familiar lupine form.  His paws hit the carpeted ground as he felt silver fur colliding with the stagnant warm air.

Just before he left, he could feel girl's lips settle into a small smile before her consciousness once again faded away. 

********************************************* 

            Ryou stared at the limp body of his sister as if expecting her somehow to miraculously come alive. The small six-year old girl looked so pale, cheeks ashen-white, lips drawn in a tight grimace. As the white-haired boy murmured and spoke to his now-dead sister, stroking her hand, he thought he saw a flicker of a smile on the girl's face; one that had not been there before. 

            Ryou shook his head. He was hallucinating. There was no bringing back that which had already departed. He looked at his lifeless, pale sister and hastily wiped the tears pooling around his red-rimmed eyes. 

            The doctors were still puzzled by his sister's death. They said she had gone into cardiac arrest due to a loss of blood.  They could provide no further explanation. There were no wounds on his sister's fair skin. 

            Perhaps he was deceiving himself with this dead body. Ryou not longer had a sister. She had disappeared and all that was left was her body.  He had already buried the ashes of her memory beside the vague images he retained of his mother. 

            "Such tragedy. A pity she had to die."

            Ryou jerked around in surprise. Someone else was in the room!

            A pair of burning amber eyes burned in the shadows. They slowly moved towards the moonlit windowsill. 

            The white-haired boy froze in terror. There was a wolf, a wolf of pure-white fur inside his room. For a moment his heart quavered and he wondered if this was what had attacked his sister. Ryou's hands unconsciously curled into fists. 

            "No." The wolf spoke, tone bitter and vicious. "I am not the one who killed your sister... though I am quite familiar with the kind that did this."

            Ryou backed away from the wolf – the demon – until he was flat against the wall. His father had preached of the cunning of spirits, ones who sought to drive humans like him to misery and hatred. The white-haired boy shook his head. "No. I don't care who killed her."

            Undaunted, the wolf-spirit took a few steps, drawing closer to Ryou. "Of course you don't care, human. You cannot understand things that you have never seen." The lupine creature gave an eerie, jagged grin, showing off his ivory canines. "But what if I told you of the potential danger these beings, these creatures that destroyed your sister, could cause to other humans? Do you really want your other friends and family to be hurt or killed?"

            Ryou had no answer. The strange aura of this wolf-demon, the abnormality of its speech had thrown his sense of reason and logic to the wind. "W-what do you want?"

            The wolf-demon snorted. "Just some revenge." His voice betrayed the depth of his anger. "Don't you want revenge for your sister?"

            "It doesn't matter." A small sigh escaped the white-haired boy's lips. "She's gone."

            The wolf-demon growled. "She could be here right now, if it weren't for that creature! Your sister would have been so happy with you. You could have gone to the park together and could have achieved so many things with each other. Look at you now – a pitiful boy, all alone, with no one to care for."

            Ryou tried to deny the words, but they sunk their teeth into his vulnerable heart. This wolf-demon, or whatever it was, somehow knew his innermost thoughts.  His shoulders sagged and he looked tiredly at the wolf-demon. "Why are you telling me this?"

            The demon-wolf faltered, but quickly covered the hesitation. "I need you to help me. You see, the creature that killed your sister is well known in human lore. You may know them as… vampires of a sort. However, they are incredibly fast and suspicious of non-humans. Unless I had close contact to a vampire, I would not be able to destroy one."

            It suddenly clicked. "So you want to use me as bait." Ryou digested the information. How could such things as vampires exist? Yet, the being confronting him with this strange new reality was inherent proof of such things.  And he could not find the strength to deny what he felt to be true.

            "Exactly." The wolf-demon gave a low chuckle that sounded almost human-like. "I'm special too. Normally, my kind only watches souls, but when angered, we can also manipulate them – feed off them, control them, or destroy them within a limited range." He shrugged. "So all I ask now is a bit of cooperation from you. I just want to borrow your body."

            Ryou backed away. This was exactly like the preaching of the demon! Lucifer, asking mortals if they would sell their soul for riches, happiness, or revenge. He tried to refuse the demon-wolf's words, but found his lips frozen and throat constricted. He couldn't even move!  

            The demon-wolf grinned insanely, touching his muzzle to the cool denim fabric of the boy's jeans. "Don't worry. You'll have your revenge. Why don't you take a small rest now?"

             The last thing Ryou heard was laughing. The jagged sound came not from his ears but from within his mind. 

**********************************************

            Only now did he realize the pain and utter agony of those few moments of isolation. Only now, safe and angry in the world of the living, did he realize that the darkness, thickened by despair would have driven him to madness before starvation would have claimed him. 

            Now, back in his physical form, there was no denying how the girl had died. Hidden to the eyes of humans were twin identical indentures in the human girl's fragile neck. The kiss, the mark of a nighthunter; what the humans called a vampire. 

            A low growl escaped from the dreamwolf's throat. He would make _them_ pay. They would pay for trapping him, for ignoring his utter helplessness. But most of all, the nighthunters would pay for their damn arrogance; for thinking that their priorities rose above all other Darkworld creatures. He had heard the summoning of their new Pharaoh. The egomaniac vampires now had a champion. The clinging dependence they exhibited was laughable. 

            And then there was that human boy, the one who called himself Ryou.   

The human was so easy to convince. He had watched the boy's mental barriers wane at each of his stinging comments. Yet, the boy had not surrendered his will completely. Some stubborn aspect of the human still forced the dreamwolf to chisel at the boy's iron determination.

The white-furred dreamwolf was not one known for great patience. In defiance of the dreamwolf Rules1, he had seized the boy's consciousness with his mind-Energy and twisted, forcing the human's soul to collapse but leaving the conscious mind untouched. The boy stared with glassy eyes, like a puppet waiting for the master puppeteer. 

            The dreamwolf grinned. He collected all his mind-Energy and willed his figure to dissipate, to shift between realms into his spirit-form. He was now the ruler in the boy's throne of consciousness. Yes, this body was his as long as he remained in spirit-form. The dreamwolf spread his mind-Energy as far as possible, seizing control of the human boy's senses. The dreamwolf forced his will upon the body, making it move to his commands.  He experimentally wriggled the boy's fingers- his own, now-, and took a few hesitant steps on two legs. Several times he stumbled, cursing. How humans could walk on two legs remained a damnable mystery to him, and he had no patience to attempt mastery. Yet there was no other choice – he had forced Ryou unconscious, and now he alone was in charge of the boy's body. 

             A few more hesitant stumbles and falters before he felt secure. Confident and purposeful, the dreamwolf was on the hunt again. He would have the revenge he wanted. And he would condemn those ever-arrogant nighthunters into the hell he had barely escaped from. 

*******************************

            The night air was silent, illuminated only by the pale wan of a sliver moon. He watched, stumbling at times within his vulnerable human body. Without the enhanced senses of his lupine form, he felt completely blind in the dark. 

            Yet he did not search with his limited eyes or senses alone. He heightened his mind-Energy and searched within the vast network of living conscious minds: the playground of the dreamwolves. With his keen spirit-senses, he could pinpoint all the Darkworld creatures and measure their power and states of consciousness. 

            He had one target only. It didn't matter who, as long as it was one of _them_.

            A devious idea struck the dreamwolf. He was a master of the spiritual, one linked to all minds be they Darkworld or human. If he wanted revenge so badly on the nighthunters, then why not take out the strongest one?  Why not take out the leader and send those bastards sulking back into their shadows with their tails between their legs?

            The thought thrilled him. He could feel the adrenaline pumping into his veins, stimulating his borrowed senses and exciting his already fevered mind. The dreamwolf, the soul-watcher, licked his parched, warm lips in anticipation.  

            In order to kill the snake, one must go for the head. 

******************************************

            "Something wrong, master?"

            He turned towards the sound as a small sigh escaped his throat. "It's nothing, Mahaado 2. I just have a bad feeling, that's all."

            The other nighthunter nodded and moving to stand protectively behind the Pharaoh. "You sure you will be okay then?"  

            The regal ruby eyes flickered in annoyance. "Yes." A wry grin played on the vampire's lips, fangs gleaming slightly in the moonlight. "Stop acting the guardian, Mahaado. You know I am more than competent enough to take care of myself."

            "But master-"

            The Pharaoh rolled his eyes. "Don't call me master! You know it annoys the hell out of me." He knew the other nighthunter would not take it seriously. The two were almost inseparable companions.  He preferred Mahaado's protectiveness to the worship lavished on him by the younger nighthunters. "It's as I said. It's just a bad storm blowing. It will eventually clear off."

            The other nighthunter gave a polite bow, trimmed tresses wrapping around his cheekbones. "As you wish, master." With the subtlety of the nighthunters, he disappeared as if never there in the first place. 

            Yami stared into the darkness from his rooftop alcove. A dark storm was rising; a short, turbulent one that was a stepping stone to a greater disaster. And somehow, beneath it all, the Sorcerer was in charge. 

            The ruby-eyed vampire suddenly narrowed his eyes as he caught a glimpse of silvery-white hair. He gave an inward hiss as his muscles tensed and became unnaturally still. Was he not a hunter after all? He would wait patiently for his prey, for the Sorcerer to come to him.  

            It suddenly occurred to Yami that perhaps he had mistaken the figure. True, there was an aura of malice emanating clearly from his enemy, but there was also an ethereal grace to the other's presence. It was a ghost masquerading in silvery hair and human flesh. 

            But who else beside the Sorcerer had such prominent silver hair? Again the nighthunter frowned at the mystery. He would have to take a closer look. 

            With a light leap over the balcony, the ruby-eyed vampire fell, slowly and gracefully, thirteen stories downwards until he hit the ground cat-like. Yami quickly stood up from his crouching position and scanned for the approaching figure's form. His eyes widened. 

            There was nothing! Where the sense of a human –or at least magickal – presence should have been was nothingness. Yami frowned. It was impossible; the vampire had perfected his tracing abilities for centuries.  It was as if the sense of the person's existence had been erased. Or, if it was a Darkworld fiend, the face of the damned. 

            He furrowed his eyebrows and delved deeper with his Magick, not wanting to release his hold on this strange intruder. He knew from the first glimpse that this figure was definitely not a nighthunter. All nighthunters' essences were directly linked to his: the Pharaoh, their leader.  

            Or perhaps the intruder had sensed Yami's presence and escaped in a mad dash of fright. Accepting this theory, the ruby-eyed vampire reluctantly turned his back to the non-presence. 

            The strike caught him completely off guard. He gasped and fell to his knees, thrashing violently in defence. Yet, there was no weight on him, no physical force. This attack, wherever and whoever it came from, was purely spiritual. 

            Now it was tearing with excruciating agony at his mind. Mental talons gouged at him, threatening to shred his soul.  Yami reeled uncontrollably while trying to regain his faltering senses. If he wanted to survive this ordeal, he had to stop the assault. He had to find the source of this attack. 

             The essence tearing apart his soul was familiar. 

*********************************************

            Like his species' namesake, he was a hunter by nature. Most creatures of the Darkworld were, not just dreamwolves. 

            He was different. He had a purpose. 

            The dreamwolf propelled his human body through a labyrinth of streets and alleyways, navigating by spiritual senses only. He could taste the aura of the vampire Pharaoh on the tip of his tongue. How delicious the revenge would taste, when he forced his mind-Energy into the nighthunter and ripped out the vampire's unsuspecting soul. How absolutely succulent.

            At last his borrowed human eyes caught a glimpse of the legendary nighthunter. A quick brush with his mind-Energy confirmed it. There, standing like a sulking raven on the rooftop, was his prey. 

            Ironic, considering that nighthunters too were predators.  The irony whet his appetite.

            The dreamwolf forced his stubborn human legs to move deliberately under the vampire's field of view. He used a bit of his mind-Energy to lull the nighthunter's suspecting mind, inviting the Pharaoh to attack him.

            The vampire was suspicious. The dreamwolf could feel the mistrust radiating from him. The spirit – for in this form he was merely an essence - cloaked his aura in a mental shield, taking delight in the vampire's pathetic attempts to pierce it. The dreamwolf sensed the other's panic and then curiosity. 

            'Yes.' Had he been in lupine form, his teeth would have curved into a wicked smile to reveal his jagged incisors. 'Come to me, Pharaoh of the nighthunters. I will give you the eternity you seek.' He slid his body back into the shadows. 'I have all night to wait for my revenge'. 

            At last the Pharaoh came. With a muffled flutter of fabric and flash of limbs, the nighthunter jumped. The wind whispered as he fell and there was a dull thud of feet gently hitting the ground. 

            And still the dreamwolf waited. He could feel the other probe him with Magick, unsuccessfully.  'Yes, Pharaoh, your Magick can no nothing against my mind-Energy.' The dreamwolf licked his all too-human lips, savouring the nighthunter's hesitation.  The pathetic creature. 'Feel the doubt and apprehension. Feel the pain that I had to suffer.'

            In the space of a breath, he struck. The dreamwolf watched in satisfaction as his attack formed a spiritual dagger, stabbing the Pharaoh in a burst of mental power. He watched as the so-called _leader_ of the nighthunters fall helpless to the ground, writhing in unstoppable mental agony. The attack was tearing apart the vampire's ancient soul. 

            The dreamwolf loved every bit of it. Revenge was a sweet and delicate pleasure, made all the more delectable by forcing the Pharaoh's arrogance into submission. This was his challenge to the vampires that dared to intrude upon the dreamwolf's life. 

            The Pharaoh gasped, doubled-over on the ground.  He was helpless under the dreamwolf's onslaught. It would be child's play to wring the life from the creature with even these weak mortal hands. 

            It would be such irony – a vampire destroyed by a human. The dreamwolf felt his lips curve in a derisive sneer. Perhaps the other grieving vampires would erroneously attribute the attack to another Darkworld species.  It might even escalate to a war.  

            Wouldn't that be grand?

            The Pharaoh, kneeling like a hag on the ground suddenly snarled, baring his fanged teeth so that two ivory curves could be seen in the light of the pale moon. A glowing insignia manifested on the nighthunter's forehead with a brilliant scarlet sheen. The vampire roared again, the mark blazing with incredible light and suddenly, the dreamwolf felt his attack retreat. The ruby-eyed nighthunter was slowly rising from his knees, breathing heavily. The burning insignia had disappeared from the Pharaoh's forehead along with the dreamwolf's mental onslaught. 

            The dreamwolf was stunned. No creature had ever broken the spell of the dreamwolf, the mental trap feared by every creature of the Darkworld.  Yet this _nighthunter_ had endured and even stopped the attack.  Even dreamwolves themselves would not be able to escape from such an onslaught, if such a situation ever occurred. 

            It enraged the dreamwolf. Not only had been deprived of his revenge, but he had also been out-powered by an amateur, one completely foreign to mind-Energy. The strange Magick protecting the Pharaoh was not just sorceror's Magick. The dreamwolf would have to study it with greater care in the future.

            A physical jolt jarred the dreamwolf from his thoughts. He narrowed his too human eyes and tried to pierce the darkness to catch a glimpse of his attacker. 

            "I would advise you to stop struggling, _dreamwolf_."

            Had he been in his wolven form, he might have flattened his ears along his skull in humiliation. The _Pharaoh_ had his mortal body locked tight in an unmoving grasp. 

            "I wouldn't leave if I were you," the vampire hissed, making the dreamwolf realize exactly how powerful his opponent was. "You know you'll be vulnerable the moment you try to flee this body." The Pharaoh was not a mere idol for god-worship. The nighthunter's power, both subtle and startling, was something the dreamwolf recognized as beyond his own. The spirit had been overpowered. 

            That by far did not mean that he was not angry with the Pharaoh. 

            "Damn you, nighthunter!" the dreamwolf hissed, watching flecks of spittle spray from his puppet.  He felt the face contort with anger.  "Damn you to hell!" Never once did he stop struggling, weak as his mortal body was. 

            The dreamwolf felt a touch of warmth against his neck. His human body involuntarily shuddered, the fear touching his spirit and leaving him momentarily shocked. 

            "I could drain your body of all blood," the nighthunter mused, powerful muscles holding the dreamwolf still.  The warmth of the vampire's breath caressed its victim's neck. "Maybe I should make you beg for mercy, and it would be a light punishment, considering the stunt you almost pulled off with your hellish mind tricks. 

            The dreamwolf's body stiffened. He glared as menacingly as possible. "You wouldn't dare. The Book of Dreamwolf Rules forbids it."

            "Ah." The Pharaoh's voice came in a low, dangerous purr. "I wouldn't be one to preach those rules, considering that you've broken them yourself." His intrigue seemed to be replacing his anger. "But tell me dreamwolf, are you the only one? Or are all the others planning a massive assault against us?"

            The dreamwolf snarled. "Why the hell would I tell you that?"

            The other again adopted a low, grating whisper, one that trickled down the dreamwolf's human. "Because I'll kill them. You know I will, if they are threatening my kindred."

            The spirit began to laugh at the sheer irony of the statement. The vampire was threatening _him_ for attempted murder of his kind! "You mock me, nighthunter." His borrowed human lips pressed into a horrible grimace. "You hunt the humans, full of ignorance and blunder, not even stopping to consider whether or not my kind is inside. You know full well how we dreamwolves travel, and yet you fail to enforce the discipline amongst yourselves. Because of the ignorance of you nighthunters, I nearly died, shut off from everything else. Who knows how many others of my kind died the same way, completely isolated and ignored as they starved begging for dream-energy in a dead and isolated body?" He laughed bitterly. "Does it please you, Pharaoh? To know that you're destroying us one by one like the humans you squeeze life out of? And then you come to mock me by saying that _we_ are threatening your kind."

            The ruby-eyed nighthunter said nothing for a long time. He just stood, as if all of eternity could pass him by and the moonlight would still be shining. 

            The pair of powerful arms suddenly withdrew. The dreamwolf had deliberately been freed. 

            "Leave." The vampire said nothing else. 

            The dreamwolf was being granted freedom! He could have almost cried at the nighthunter's change of heart3. And yet, a part of him felt cheated. He had been denied his revenge and suffered obligation to the nighthunter.  Insult to chafe a stinging defeat.  He could taste his own bitterness.

            "Leave." The nighthunter's second command was not nearly so indifferent. His white knuckles trembled uncontrollably under the moonlight. "You don't want to test my patience."

            Still glaring silently with rage and indignation, the dreamwolf finally retreated, nursing his stinging human arms and even more battered soul. He would one day wipe that superior look off the Pharaoh's face. 

*******************************************

            His pale skin shone a startling ivory in the moonlight. The soft silver wove into his white hair, which cascaded down his shoulders to stop at his shoulder blades. His keen brown eyes glimmered with too many facets of light, as if invisible tears brimmed near the darkened irises, threatening to spill.  

            But this body was not his. He was only a spirit, able to adopt a lupine form that was ghostly at best. How different his kind was from the solid, clumsy, cumbersome humans; and yet, his kind's attributes matched the demonic residents of the Darkworld no better. 

            What were dreamwolves? Spirit-creatures who lived in the shadows but sought the light of humans? Their mind-Energy was so unlike the telltale Darkworld Magick; spiritual instead of elemental. 

            Was that the reason the vampire had spared him? Was it because the Pharaoh had felt _pity_ for his kind, the lost ones doomed to straddle the world of humans and demons? 

            The night was ending quickly. Soon, he would sleep a fitful sleep and wake up disoriented when the moon rose once again. It was yet another unspoken rule of the Darkworld: not to disturb the waking, living realm of the humans. No creature of the Darkworld dared challenge the sun's human-loving face.  

            A part of him sighed, watching in detached fascination as his human chest rose and fell, breathing out a wisp of mist. He was aware of all the uncomfortable feelings this ill-made body suffered from: shortness of breath, tremour of muscles, the stiff ache of the old night air on the body's fair skin. 

            Like a statue he walked, letting his borrowed human instincts take him to the home the body, but not the spirit controlling it, belonged to. 

            At last he came to the familiar house, the same white-washed and red-tiled roof house where he had first encountered the girl-child. His body gave an involuntary shudder as it slipped through the half-opened window and crossed the girl's bedroom. A vacant, foreboding air seemed to exude from the closed white door, though logic told the dreamwolf that there was no longer anyone inside. No child to dream beautiful worlds of dragons and castles among the sanctuary of her pastel pictures. 

            He let his human body collapse inside its own room. The dreamwolf could feel the true consciousness of the body, the soul named Ryou, begin to panic and struggle against him. The spirit bristled in annoyance but gave in eventually, relinquishing his control of the body to escape back to reality. It felt so natural for the dreamwolf to do this, to travel between dimensions. Even as his lupine body solidified on the carpeted ground, it was no more than a projection, flickering and lacking the solid taste of human flesh or the darkened tone of demon skin. 

            With an inward sigh, the dreamwolf steadied himself with his paws and turned towards the wall, ready to flee ghost-like through the dimensions once more. 

            "Wait!"

            Caught off guard by the command, the dreamwolf turned around, coming face to face with the human boy whom he had just possessed moments ago. There was an innocence, a curiousity framing the boy's eyes that gleamed with incandescent fire. The spirit-wolf growled, wondering why he even bothered to acknowledge the human, a trivial creature that he would never meet again. "What?"

            The boy's lips were pressed in awed determination, his doleful brown eyes large. "_What_ are you?"

            He dreamwolf snorted. "You called me a demon. Isn't that good enough?"

            "No." The boy swallowed. Finally defeating his hesitation, he blurted out his thoughts in one courageous breath. "Wh-when I was watching you, when you were in my mind, I could sense something about you. There was so much pain in your mind. For a moment, I thought your thoughts were mine, and your actions what I unconsciously willed. Because in truth, though we may be completely different, there is not that much difference in our souls."

            "Sentimental nonsense." The dreamwolf dismissed the human boy's words. What would this boy, barely an adolescent know anyway? Perhaps that he could count beyond his fingers? The spirit-wolf did not trust clumsy, blundering humans anymore than he trusted those arrogant, ignorant nighthunters. He was alone in this world and he would remain alone, forgotten even by his own kind. 

            It still hurt him to know that none of his kind had responded to his call for help in taking revenge on the nighthunters after the incident. He might as well have been screaming his ordeal to the wind; and even that might have elicited more sympathy. 

            "Please just tell me who are you are. Or at least a name." The boy's pleas were frantic, too naïve, too pleading. 

            The dreamwolf snarled. "I-"

            A sudden clapping interrupted the dreamwolf's train of thought. Startled, the spirit-wolf looked around. It miffed him that he had even noticed this one's presence. 

            "Beautiful as always, dreamwolf." The figure was quite tall and gaunt. His smooth silver hair fell to his shoulders like a plate of steel, glistening dully in the half-light. His fair lips were curved into a smug smile. "Full of your ideologies and fantasies."

            The dreamwolf immediately sensed the intruder's identity from his aura. His white canines flashed. "Why are you here, Sorcerer?"

            The Sorceror shrugged. "I could ask you the same thing, though it's quite fortunate that you _are_ here. You've been rather difficult to track with all that shifting between realms, more so than the others of your kind."

            Something was not right about the Sorcerer's last words. "Why are you tracking us, sorcerer? There is nothing we can do for the likes of you." The spirit-wolf spat the words out. 

            "I think the better question is what your kind can _not_ do for us." The Sorceror gave a laugh that grated in the dreamwolf's ears. The human boy was completely forgotten for the moment. "You see, you dreamwolves have a power I cannot comprehend. It is so unlike our Magick, so uncanny in form, so unique that I realized I couldn't use it. Of course, what I can't use I destroy. It proves to be much less of a threat that way." The silver-haired human, if he could be called one, snapped his fingers. 

            The shadows behind the sorcerer merged to form a gigantic snarling beast with ruby-red eyes. The creature was the antithesis of the dreamwolves, the distorted and bulky lupine outlined by coarse black hair. There was intelligence in those flashing crimson eyes or bared, ivory incisors. 

            "Do you like my pet, dreamwolf?" The sorcerer's hand fondly stroked the creature's ebony fur, watching it fade wisp-like upon contact. "I'm sure you've heard of the legend of the Soul-eaters; mindless creatures damned to consume souls for eternity without satisfaction. This particular Soul-eater seems to have a fondness for dreamwolves. A pity that you're the last one."

            The sorcerer's words left the dreamwolf stunned and completely caught off guard. A chilling roar was building in his mind. 

            He was the _last_ dreamwolf. That was why the others had not responded to his pleas for help. Dreamwolves were pack-brothers and sisters who had always hunted and supported each other. He had been a fool to doubt their loyalty. 

            Yet, it no longer mattered, did it?

            In his vortex of grief and torment, the sorcerer's voice was a muffle to his ears.  "Soul-eater. Destroy the dreamwolf. Destroy your last prey and relish it."

            Stunned. Absolutely shocked beyond movement. Was this what the sorcerer had planned all along, to ensnare the dreamwolf with this cruel confession? 

            Maybe… just maybe he should fight. He should defend himself and make his death honourable. 

            The dreamwolf felt the Soul-eater lunging hungrily at him. The beast's red eyes flashed wildly, teeth seeking the spirit-wolf's silvered fur. Though the dreamwolf was of spirit-essence only, he felt the flare of pain as a chunk of his fur and spirit-flesh was brutally ripped from his flank. He knew this agony was only the beginning; he knew he should fight; but his soul had lost the will. 

            What did it matter anyway? He was the last one. No one would care. 

            The dreamwolf felt his legs fall and give away to the uncontested strength of the Soul-eater, felt the ebony beast rip his beautiful skin with insatiable hunger; and yet, he felt nothing. 

            He would be free to join the rest of his kind. His pack brothers and sisters were waiting for him. He would tell them his tale and frolic among them, and raise the young cubs and-

            "Get away from him, Soul-eater!"

            It was a voice, sharp and ringing to his ears. And it belonged to none other than the neglected one, the one sitting in mortified silence throughout the supernatural onslaught. The voice commanded again, and it was rich in tone, in a flavour so unlike its submissive self. "You heard me, Soul-eater! Get away from him!"

            More annoyed at being interrupted than threatened, the beast of flashing red eyes and sharp white teeth looked up from its prey and snarled at the human who dared offend it. 

            The dreamwolf's vision was blurring, and he couldn't tell if the human had backed away or if this boy still had enough defiance to stare into the Soul-eater's eyes. Why this Ryou had tried to help the dreamwolf was beyond his present capacity to comprehend.

            Another roar from the Soul-eater, another shout from the human boy, and then a command from the Sorcerer. The screams and shouts of rage blended into the dreamwolf's ears until they were a single mass of shrill cries. The chaotic shouts grew louder and made the entire room shake. 

            He was unprepared for the terrible pain that suddenly lanced through his soul. 

            It was as if the flames of judgement had been forced into his lupine body. His mind screamed in silent agony though the cry died in his throat. Every fibre of his existence, the very essence of his soul, was being burned, melted, twisted alive!

            And then it ended. The dreamwolf found himself on his paws, white fur trembling with exhaustion. 

             But he was alive, and he was somehow standing.  And miraculously healed.

            The dreamwolf heard an angry hiss, sensed a flare of Magick, and then silence. He suddenly realized that he and the human boy were once again alone. The strange human boy who possessed some unknown power. 

            This time, it was the human who approached the dreamwolf. The white-haired boy murmured a few soft words and stroked the wolf-spirit's silken ivory fur. 

            "I-I don't know what happened. I was scared, and then, it suddenly flashed brightly and I closed my eyes." The human was babbling. "By the time I opened them, I realized that it had destroyed the Soul-eater and that you were still alive."

            Alive. Yes, alive, but bruised and pained. The fire of whatever Magick the boy possessed had burned the Dreamwolf and yet healed him from all mortal wounds.

            "It…" The dreamwolf struggled to keep his voice level. "What is this 'it' that you speak of?" 

            But the dreamwolf did not need to ask. He saw _it_ dangling around the boy's neck. So inconspicuous and innocent-looking, like a fancy golden trinket. 

            The Millennium Ring, one of the legendary Millennium Items, empowered with a legendary power and fierce will of its own. A piece of the set of relics that almost destroyed the Darkworld so long ago. 

            And yet, why did it save him?

            Ryou's words came again. 

~*~      "For a moment, I thought your thoughts were mine and your actions what I unconsciously willed, because in truth, though we may be completely different, there is not that much difference in our souls"  ~*~

            And the dreamwolf, for all that he claimed to be, suddenly knew what he wasn't. He denied to be humbled by the boy's words, but only they explained the veritable truth. 

            True, dreamwolves were creatures of the Darkworld. Yet, they had the moral reasoning and spirituality of humans instead of the darkness and feral hatred of those belonging to the Darkworld. That was why the Ring had spared him. The Millennium Items blessed humans and purged the Darkworld 'demons'. 

            So it was the truth. That Dreamwolves were an odd blend of human spirit and Darkworld myth. Or were they neither?

            The dreamwolf tossed his head in agitation, trying to shake away his thoughts.  They haunted him, as the sorcerer's words stuck in his soul like a poisoned arrow. He was the last of his kind. He would never know the reason of the dreamwolf's existence, their past, or what destiny they had to fulfill. Or did it matter in the first place? 

            Something wet touched his face, leaving a slick trail of saliva over his fine white fur. The dreamwolf jerked in surprise. He found himself gazing into a pair of vibrant yellow eyes, innocent and arcane. 

            The yellow-eyed pup opened its jaws and gave a small grin, tongue lolling out in youthful glee. It gave a small whine and proceeded to softly lick the older dreamwolf's leg. 

            "So you survived your ordeal, dreamwolf."

            It was that voice, rich and firm in tone. The dreamwolf's fur involuntary bristled. "You!" A low growl escaped his throat. "Why are you here?"

            Though the nighthunter's arms were crossed with smug confidence, his words were oddly humble. "The Soul-eater did not escape my eyes. I wish I had realized it earlier, but there were simply too many things in my mind." He swallowed, a very human gesture. "I apologize, dreamwolf. These pups I found may be the last of your kind, but they are also the first."

            There were three of them, small bundles of fur and soft whimpers, romping around the carpeted room on an adventure. One of them, the one who had licked the elder dreamwolf, stopped and looked at him with curiosity. The small dreamwolf pup shook its stubby tail, inviting the elder dreamwolf to play. 

            Entranced, the spirit-wolf trotted towards the last of his kindred and nuzzled the first one gently. A warm pulse vibrated through his soul. It was the unconscious greeting of two similar beings. The dreamwolf looked into the small pup's amber eyes and then back to the human gazing in awe at the spectacle.  

            The Pharaoh of the nighthunters gave a small bow. "I'll take my leave then, dreamwolf." 

            There was a hidden sentence after those words. _We shall meet again._ The spirit-wolf turned his attention back to the young ones. "I have a feeling that this sorcerer is not only my enemy."

            The nighthunter gave a small nod. With a flicker of his ebony cloak, he leapt out the open window back into the night air. His figure was soon lost amongst the moonlit darkness. 

            "W-who was he?" The human Ryou had finally snapped out of his shock. "Is he-" 

            "-Yes." The spirit-wolf dismissed the boy's stunned surprise. "The very leader of the vampires. You'll see him again."

            The boy's eyes widened. "Again? Why?"

            It took the dreamwolf a while to realize it himself. Just as he yearned for his own kind, he also desired a soul like his own. It didn't matter that the boy was weak, was human, was infallibly clumsy and blundering. That was only the body, and it was merely a mask of the soul, possibly a puppet that the dreamwolf could use in the future. He knew he had the boy's consent. 

            "It's very late." There was a flicker of longing in the spirit-wolf's eyes. "You should go to sleep now, Ryou."

            Ryou. The dreamwolf had called the human boy by name. 

            The white-haired boy nodded. The pain and excitement had left his mind numb. "I'll do that." He turned to peel off his worn clothes and change into his more comfortable pyjamas. "Where will you go?"

            The dreamwolf could not help but give a dry chuckle. "I'm a dreamwolf, Ryou. A spirit who lives among your dreams. Where else would I go?"

            The boy's chestnut eyes grew large, mouth forming into a silent "oh". He softly and self-consciously crept into his bed and closed the lights. "Then, you'll come soon?" 

            "Of course. As soon as you're asleep."

            The boy was still a bit confused. "But you never told me your name. How will I remember or recognize you?"

            The spirit-wolf paused. A name? Nevertheless, it amused him. He searched within the boy's memory bank, the human's open mind of thoughts and feelings. Yes, he would have a name.

            "Bakura." The dreamwolf liked the harshness of the word's syllables. "Call me Bakura if you must."

Ryou's eyes widened again, stirred from his drained, half-sleeping state. "B-but that's my last name!"

            The spirit-wolf grinned. He watched the pups sit patiently on their haunches, three sets of eyes waiting for him. "I know."

***************************************

[1] The Book of Dreamwolf Rules is made of a list of restrictions set on the dreamwolf mind-Energy. This was first established during the creation of the Darkworld, after the dreamwolves proclaimed themselves as a largely pacifist species. Without them, they could possibly be the strongest and most dangerous of the Darkworld creatures.

[2] SPOILER WARNING: For those of you who have not gone to Jenniyah's page of Yu-gi-oh! Scanslations, Mahaado is the official name of Yami's Dark Magician back in ancient Egypt (before he became the D. Magician, that is)  

[3] Yeah, couldn't resist. Sorry ;P

End notes:

Three weeks and almost twenty pages. *sighs* Either you suffer with a big chapter and slower updates, or I cut them in half. But then, it wouldn't be a chapter – I mean, why the heck would I want to post half a chapter?

Well, next time we explore yet another facet of the Darkworld. As always. 

Preview for next chapter:

            Yuugi said nothing after the entire tale had been retold. A tingle of excitement burned in his mind as he realized that Ryou, his friend, also knew the Darkworld secret. Yuugi felt grateful to be able to confide to someone else. 

            "So the tale has been told." Yami shrugged it off as if it were only a story. 

            Yuugi's eyes glistened with curiosity. "Where are they now, Yami?"

            The ruby-eyed nighthunter looked thoughtful. "Where they usually are. Perhaps not so different from our encounters." He gave a small frown. Already, two of the most influential Darkworld creatures had broken the one of the unspoken Laws, himself being one. He wondered how many others would follow. "What can I say? The harm has been done."

            "Nighthunters and dreamwolves." The violet-eyed youth mused. "Are there more? And how many more? What do they look like?"

            Yami chuckled. "Not so fast, little one. Of course there are more. There are many strains and variations, like the different nationalities among you humans."

            Yuugi's eyes strayed to the night sky outside the bedroom window. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow flicker over the moon's pale face. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was just tired and seeing things. 

            The vampire, however, seemed intrigued. He walked to the windowsill, gazing silently at the moon.  

            "What was that?" Yuugi whispered. He shuddered as he remembered the twisting, serpentine form of the fleeting shadow. "It's not dangerous, is it?"

            Yami's response was immediate. "No, not to the ones it remembers." He paused, a sudden mischievous smile creeping into his normally solemn expression. "You're not tired are you, Yuugi?"

            Baffled, the violet-eyed youth shook his head. "N-no"

            The nighthunter's ruby eyes glimmered with anticipation. "Then how would you like to go flying?"


	3. The Shapeshifter and the Haunted

Author's notes:  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh. The Darkworld is mine though and can only be used with permission *nod nod*  
  
;_; You guys are so nice - spoiling me with your commentary . Well, guess I'm obligated to give you replies then ^-^  
  
Responses to reviews:  
  
Yugi-chan: Tenku ^_^ Shenya: ^-^ Well, Bakura is, as Sam-chan quotes, the "angst king". We wouldn't expect no less from him~ Tenshimagic: Did I update soon enough? ;P. Hmm.. a piccie of Bakura. Good idea.. lily22: I bow down to your psychic-ness! And of course I'd notice my name in your fic, in whatever context it was ^_~ Sakiku: tenku! Though I can't claim to have created the idea of an "other world" in fanfictioning, I'd like to at least claim the Darkworld for this fandom XD Myst Lady: yeah! You have to post that Yu-gi-oh/CCS crossover! ;_; My library doesn't have any LJ Smith books. The only one I have is "Witchlight" (my fave of all of 'em) Alecto Perdita: Yay! Contest fic! Contest fic! *grins* o.O;; "The Art of the Novel". sounds like something from my English class. AnimeGoddess: Thank you! I'll try and update ASAP, but it depends on my creativity flow and school homework factor ^^;; Angel/DemonGaurdian: o.O;; I. inspired you? *stops and ponders over the absolute paradox of the statement* ^-^ I should be honoured then! petite-hikarie: XD. I see what you mean by changing writing style. I prefer long, flowing sentences to exaggerate my meaning while you like the short, succinct way. Cynthia Chen: Ni hao! Yeah - Bakura's going to stay in wolf form cause that's what he is! ^-^ Tenku for reading this *grins* Sailor Comet: ^-^ Glad you liked my puppies *hands Sam-chan a puppy* o.O;;; GYAHH!!! *Zoo runs out of the room screaming as the puppy latches onto her hand and wont let go* Yami-kun: I'm very partial to long chapters ne? Here's an idea - copy and save this fic into your computer, read half of it, and then come back and read the other half later! ^-^ Jadej.j: What's next? We'll, you have to read ne? *sly grin* Fiery Charizard: *whams writer's block away with Magical Girl wand* There! Now there's no excuse not to write the contest fic! (Scarlet Fangs is. erm. being started?) YumeTakato: I think the greatest weakness for my fics is my slowness in updating -_-;; I hope you'll be patient with me~ --NC--: NC-SAN!!! *gomplies* Of course the fics wont be judged until after the contest closes, but you can read them on my site (see my user bio page)  
  
And that is all ^_^. Now onto the fic!  
  
Warnings: Swearing, possibly the first signs of shounen-ai. Yes, I know, I'm slow ^^;;  
  
~*~ Flashback ~*~  
  
***************************************  
  
There is a separate world that lies like a shadow inside our own. Those that are a part of it come out only at night-time. They dominate, betray, attack, and love within their self-maintained society.  
  
The only restriction is that their world cannot be discovered by humans  
  
because the humans would do anything to destroy them  
  
for they are against the will  
  
of God  
  
*****************************************  
  
He wrenched the door open and burst outside into the chill night air. The artificial light poured out from behind him as he shoved his exhausted legs forward. Sooner or later _they_ would find out that he had escaped. He had to run as far as possible.  
  
He crossed several empty yards and a lone strip of gravel road. Never once did he stop his relentless trek, his breathing laboured and noisy. Strange wires and circular electrodes stuck to his nude body, tangling with his mess of half-cropped blond hair. Sweat and a jelly-like liquid covered his fair skin, permeating the air with a sickly aroma.  
  
His chocolate brown eyes scanned his surroundings. A choked noise like a high-pitched whine escaped his throat and his lips moved as if attempting to speak.  
  
The needle-ends of the various electrodes were still stuck firmly into his flesh. Without a moment's hesitation, the blonde-haired youth grabbed a set of electrodes and pulled, a mass of wires reluctantly parting with his arm and leaving several gouges in his otherwise perfect skin. He watched in fascination as ruby blood began to fill the holes, sluggishly dribbling and collecting at his elbow. The blonde absently wiped his arm, his palm collecting a handful of blood.  
  
Again and again he pulled out the wires, tossing them carelessly to the dirt. There were no trees or shrubbery to conceal his solitary figure from the moonlight. It bathed his skin in silver, making the blonde-haired youth appear like a martyr, prepared in a sacrificial dressing of blood.  
  
Yet, there were some not-quite human features on his boyish face. The moonlight saw the differences.  
  
A set of canines flashed as the youth's lips formed a toothy smile. His large brown eyes were actually starbursts of gold blended with mahogany. The pupils consistently dilated and contracted as if able to pierce the landscape beyond the weak glow of moonlight. Even his ears were slightly pointed, larger and wider than even elvish ears.  
  
The youth stopped, head straying back and forth, eyes alert. He stood in this position for less than three seconds before he began to pace, never taking more than five steps before turning around and pacing the other direction.  
  
His facial expressions harboured both anxiety and relief. He had finally escaped _them_. The blonde-haired youth shuddered involuntarily and sought to remember no more. He had escaped now. His foolishness, his blind mistake would be left along with the electrodes spilt on the ground and the dungeon far, far behind him.  
  
A small tremour travelled down the youth's spine as he realized what his escape really meant. He was out in the open air, not confined, standing on his two legs, chin tilted up and confident. His golden-blonde hair swayed gently in the wind, taut muscles obeying only his will.  
  
He was truly free.  
  
The blond cleared his throat again, a series of hoarse chokes. He heaved in a lungful of air to summon a long-neglected voice.  
  
"I'm free." The sound was a whisper at best.  
  
Furrowing his eyebrows, the blond inhaled as much air as possible, and mustered all the strength from his lungs.  
  
"I'm free!"  
  
He listened in satisfaction as the roar echoed over the desolate landscape, his own ears ringing. With an impish grin, he thrust both his arms into the air, leaping, pivoting, laughing madly under the moonlight.  
  
"I did it! I'm free! I'm free!"  
  
His deep alto voice released peals of exuberated laugher. The blonde forced his protesting muscles to continue moving, to celebrate his moment of triumph. He gazed upwards at the flickering half-moon and gave a small, delightful howl, canine in nature.  
  
The blonde barely noticed it. It seemed natural in his body, for what he was, for what he had become. He simply laughed and laughed and let the night currents carry him relentlessly to wherever his mind desired.  
  
Yet, someone else took notice. Chrome glinted off its large body. With a flicker of its sheath-like wings, the creature rolled onto his hind legs and craned its neck towards the noise. Its bright sapphire eyes immediately locked onto the reckless figure of the blond, the figure dancing undaunted in the moonlight only several meters from it.  
  
Its serpentine tail lashed against the cold dirt ground in annoyance. The creature gave the blonde-haired youth one last disapproving glare before fading into the half-shadows where it hid.  
  
**************************************************  
  
He was tired and a bit cold. Yet, the one sensation that permeated everything else was the gaping maw in his abdomen. He was starving.  
  
The blonde-haired youth scanned his surroundings for anything edible. A small creek trickled over the parched dirt, and he immediately knelt on his knees and shoved his mouth against the trickle of water, greedily lapping up the cool silver liquid.  
  
Kneeling upwards, the youth let a handful of water collect in his cupped palm. He slapped the liquid against his arm, vigorously washing the caked blood. It stung his skin and only made a larger mess. The blonde wrinkled his nose in disgust.  
  
But what mattered most was the hunger. He needed something to eat!  
  
Without thinking, the blonde-haired youth grabbed a handful of dried grass and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed it twice, letting it roll only seconds against his tastebuds before vehemently spitting it out. It was disgusting!  
  
His arm was stinging again, he was still hungry, and his mouth was infested with a horrendous aftertaste. The blonde-haired youth whimpered in discontent and curled his tall frame into a ball. Perhaps if he slept, the dissatisfaction would wear off. Even this discomfort was thousands of times better than what he had to endure.  
  
Something kicked him rudely on the side. The youth's exhausted eyes snapped open, one hand moving to the suddenly bruised area. He growled, muscles tightening as he prepared to fend himself from the intruder.  
  
The other figure was tall, even taller than the blonde. There was something almost alluring in the figure's cropped, dark-brown hair and icy cobalt-blue eyes. The only difference was that this figure appeared all too human. He wore black shirt and jeans, and his thin frame was protected by a flowing white jacket.  
  
"I know you can talk and understand me," the cobalt-eyed figure said. His voice was cold and slightly disdainful. He gave a sigh as the blonde bristled in defence, and defensively crossed his arms. "Unless you haven't noticed, you're walking naked in a flat field under the moonlight. If you don't want to get caught, I suggest that you follow me." Movements as abrupt as his words, the chestnut-haired youth pivoted and began to walk away.  
  
The blonde did not move. He stared at the other figure, watching the long, swaying folds of the youth's overcoat.  
  
The figure stopped and turned around, a flicker of annoyance passing through his cobalt eyes. He noticed the blonde still staring almost helplessly at him and proceeded to angrily trek back. "Here."  
  
The blonde's eyes widened as he felt something heavy and cloth-like smother his face. He pulled the material off his head, his fingers involuntarily tingling at the smooth fabric-texture. It was the other's large, white coat.  
  
"Put it on." The colbalt-eyed figure's impatience covered up any sympathy he might have had for the blonde. "The last thing I want is people staring at us."  
  
Nodding mutely, the blond-haired youth grasped the large folds of the jacket and slipped his arm into one of the sleeve-holes. He did the same with the other, only to notice that the large collar of the jacket was covering well over half his face. He whimpered pathetically.  
  
The chestnut-haired youth gave a choked snort, the first signs of another emotion other than impatience. He quickly smothered up his amusement. "Idiot. You're wearing the coat backwards."  
  
Blushing madly, the blonde proceeded to untangle himself, only to get one of his elbows caught in the material. He briefly wondered how pathetic he looked now, and how frustrated the other might get. Struggling only made it worse.  
  
"Here!" The tall, blue-eyed figure gave a large sigh of annoyance. "I'll help you!"  
  
The blonde stood motionless as the other advanced. He felt a tug on the jacket and then the cold imprint of the other's fingers on his bare skin. Slowly, the jacket-sleeve loosened and unravelled as the cobalt-eyed youth slipped it off the blonde and proceeded to redo the sleeves.  
  
"Here. Put your right arm in this hole."  
  
The blonde listened to the other's command, and briefly pondered which arm was his right. After much internal debate, he selected a random arm and pulled it inside the open sleeve. The other's fingers brushed against his warm skin yet again, causing his entire arm to tingle.  
  
"Okay. Now the other arm."  
  
He briefly wondered why this strange blue-eyed youth had so much patience with him. After years of abuse and mistreatment with _them_, even such cold courtesy was foreign to him. But then, the blond sensed that the other was perhaps not as cold as he portrayed himself to be.  
  
"There. Now just zip up the jacket and we'll go."  
  
The blonde looked at the other stupidly.  
  
"Fine!" The brown-haired youth scowled, wondering why on earth he bothered to help this strange blonde. Reasoning told him that he needed this golden-haired youth for a loftier purpose. That would come later. "Just stand still. I'll zip it up for you."  
  
Watching the other fumble with the jacket, the blonde could not help but notice the heat building up on his cheeks. He tried to turn his head away as the blue-eyed youth leaned ever too closely to him and proceeded to pull the zipper-end up. The other's firm hands jerked the end of the jacket firmly at the top, skin resting momentarily against the blonde's chin.  
  
The moment of warmth ended, and the brown-haired youth turned away. He began walking away in silence.  
  
The blonde stood dumbfounded before dashing madly to catch up with the other. "W-wait! Where are we going?" The coat was a bit too large for him, restricting his motion and causing him to stumble several times.  
  
"Somewhere safe." The blue-eyed figure did not stop and wait for the other. "We'll find a place to talk away from anyone watching."  
  
**********************************************  
  
The blue-eyed individual waited for his guest to settle. He sat on one of the many table chairs, arms crossed, chest taut. His cobalt eyes darted towards the blonde, now greedily scarfing down yet another slice of bread.  
  
At last the now-satiated golden-haired youth came and took a seat beside the other. The blonde sat still for a few moments before nervously clearing his throat, demanding the other's attention.  
  
The other remained impassive.  
  
"E-excuse me." The blonde realized that he was stuttering and tried again. "Thank you for giving me food. But why are you helping me? A-and who are you?"  
  
Slowly, the piercing cobalt eyes turned towards the blonde. "Seto Kaiba. That's my alias. As for why I am helping you, it comes without question that I demand something in return. Something you escaped from, essentially."  
  
The golden-haired youth's face fell. "No!" His shoulders began to shake involuntarily. "I-I can't! I can't!" He began to scream hysterically, mouth twisting into a horrendous grimace, hands covering his face.  
  
The other ignored the blonde's sobs. His voice was as smooth and cold as before. "I'm not asking any of that right now. All I want is for you to tell me who you are."  
  
Gradually, the blonde's muffled cries subdued. He looked up through his mess of golden-yellow bangs, bloodshot chocolate eyes surprised. "M-my name? It was -" He frowned. "It _is_ Jounochi. My name is Jounochi Katsuya."  
  
Seto shrugged. "Fair enough. Now tell me about your past. Who you are and what has happened."  
  
"Everything?" Jounochi's voice was an incredulous tremour.  
  
"Just starting from when the incident happened."  
  
The blonde shook his head despairingly. "I can't! I don't want to remember!"  
  
"Jounochi." Seto addressed the boy coldly. "You _will_ tell me everything that happened to you. If you fail to, I will not hesitate to bring you back to what you escaped from."  
  
The blonde looked at the other in horror and then despair. "No! You can't do it!" The other's firm blue eyes told otherwise. "You can't bring me back! You can't!" With a desperate cry, Jounochi lunged towards Seto and grabbed the other's bare neck, squeezing as hard as his firm hands allowed him. He wouldn't go back! No one could make him!  
  
Seto remained unperturbed, the flesh of his cold ivory neck not yielding one bit. He waited patiently for the blonde to calm down before he disarmed Jounochi with a single thrust of his arm, pushing the golden- haired boy forcefully backwards. His steel blue eyes glared at the other. "Don't do that again."  
  
Jounochi was stunned. Even back with _them_, he had been considered violent, temperamental. Yet, his strength was nothing compared to Seto's. Had he escaped only to find himself in a more dangerous situation?  
  
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself." The blue-eyed figure displayed no empathy. "Now get yourself together and start talking. Tell me what happened."  
  
Numbly, Jounochi picked himself up from the cold tiled ground, straightened up his overturned chair, and quietly took a seat. Images, nightmares, a billion whirling pungent sensations began to collect in his thoughts, jabbering and screaming at once. He pushed them down, took a deep breath, and began.  
  
"It was two months ago. My sister, Shizuka, was losing her sight. The doctors said that if they did not get enough money for the operation, if she did not have her operation soon, she would go blind.  
  
"The problem was that I was poor. My mom died a long time ago, and my father had disappeared off the face of the planet, for all I knew. All I had were my friends, and I didn't want to ask them for money.  
  
"It was around that time that I saw an advertisement. How I saw it and the events leading up to it I can't remember. All I remember is that the advertisement wanted a healthy, young male individual for about five hours a week, and they would pay a handsome sum for whoever was interested. It seemed that the gods had answered my prayers, that I had been deliberately given the job."  
  
Jounochi gave a shuddering sigh.  
  
"I took it. I remember meeting with the boss of the corporation in a clean concrete building. I had taken a bus, and then a taxi that cost me a lot more money than I could afford. But I told myself it was worth it. I would get this job, and then I could pay for my sister's operation.  
  
"They were all strange, shadowy characters; the boss and his staff. I ignored it, and told them my qualifications, why I believed I would be suitable.  
  
"And then they told me something unusual.  
  
"'Like any job, you might get hurt,' the boss had said. 'I want to make sure that you are aware of the potential dangers of this position, and that anything that could happen to you is not our responsibility.'  
  
"He had been so persuasive and confident that I accepted. I needed the job after all."  
  
"Go on." Seto pressed the blonde to continue.  
  
"It was okay at first. I wasn't expecting to do something like that for a job, but as I said, I found it okay. I would go into a large, neon- light filled room, and they would ask me questions. Most of them were related to my health or physical well-being.  
  
"It got worse afterwards. I learnt that five hours could be a very long time.  
  
"They started doing blood tests, sometimes scraping a bit of my skin for culture, or so they told me. They made me run until I collapsed, or jump, or try and twist my limbs with some flexibility I could not endure.  
  
"I did this for over a month. I kept up with their requests, and would go home exhausted on Saturday nights. It was always a Saturday that I went to do this. I kept on doing it because I had signed their contract, I could not back away, and my sister needed the money. Besides, it was just a bit of strenuous exercise. Nothing I couldn't handle, I told myself."  
  
There was a moment of silence. Jounochi's eyes were distant, his mind collecting his thoughts.  
  
"I was staying up late one Saturday night doing their tests. Suddenly, the boss came in, and he began talking with one of the lab technicians. He said there had been a 'change of plans' and I could hear a heated debate between the two breaking out.  
  
"And then the boss sauntered over to me. How I hated his perfect smiling confident face, his perfect silver hair, the way it veiled over one of his eyes. Never in my life had I detested anyone like I did him.  
  
The boss gave me a very false smile.  
  
"'I'm going to give you some needle shots', he told me, as if I was a child* and he was stating the simplest thing in the world. 'There will be some after-effects, like dizziness, but they will wear off. Nothing in them will harm you permanently.'  
  
"I was scared. The blood tests had been okay, but now he was asking to have something foreign injected into me.  
  
"'You do want the money for your sister's operation, right?' and I nodded.  
  
"The boss just smiled in his blank, eerie manner and said, 'I'll give you as much money as you want, even more than you need, if you stay here for one week. Just one week and all the money is yours.'  
  
"I weighed it out. One week didn't seem that bad. It was only a short period of time. I told him I would do it. I had to be strong for my sister.  
  
"He said I couldn't back out once I had accepted, and I nodded. I was so stupid; I had no clue what they were about to do. "  
  
"And then came the experiments."  
  
Seto inhaled sharply, causing Jounochi to pause and look strangely at him. The other's calm blue eyes spoke nothing of his sudden change in demeanour. The blonde suppressed another shudder and continued.  
  
"They took me to this room and hooked me onto a long, flat bed, like the dentist's chairs, and strapped me firmly onto it. Every day, they would inject long needles into my skin. I was vaguely aware of several tubes and wires already protruding from me, hooked up to different machines. I could hear a sharp beeping on one side, and though I couldn't turn my head, I knew it was measuring my heart rate."  
  
His fists began to shake uncontrollably, and the blonde looked away from the other's inquiring gaze, lashes fluttering madly to blink away the tears.  
  
"They enjoyed it, all of them. Stabbing me with needles again and again, until I cried out, and then, when the pain got intolerable, they would shove a mask over my face and drug me. I would stay in a drugged, semi-conscious state, aware of voices, but they sounded far and distant. Even the pain seemed far and distant. And when the effects wore off, the first thing that hit me was the sweat covering my body, the cream from the electrodes stuck to my skin, the millions of wire around me. I felt so hot, and nauseous, and the room continued to spin around and around. I think my voice went hoarse several times as I screamed for help and begged them to release me, and that this was all been a big mistake. They ignored me and continued.  
  
"But you see, _he_ had lied. He had told me it was one week, but I don't know how many countless hours I stayed unconscious, then awake and feverish, and then numbly unconscious again. It had to have been almost two weeks1"  
  
"Tell me," Seto suddenly interrupted. "Before they strapped you into the room, what did the laboratory look like?"  
  
Jounochi's eyes glazed over. Flashes of bright neon lights and echoing, harsh voices rang in his skull. He blinked rapidly several times, trying to chase the gruesome spectres of memory away. "Long. It had a long, winding hallway. I remember walking through it and wondering when I would get to the end of it. Everything about the place was neat and plastic, and lit up in extremely bright white light. There were doors every five steps, and larger steel doors blockaded the hallway every three doors or so. I-I remember thinking that there must be security people monitoring the steel doors to make them open."  
  
The blue-eyed figure said nothing for a while. He mused and contemplated silently.  
  
"In one of my more lucid fits of consciousness, I decided that I had had enough of this, and I ran away, pushing past the scientists. It was incredible, how weak they suddenly were and how fast I was running, and suddenly, I was out the door."  
  
The blonde gave a small sigh, the rest of the ordeal finally off his chest. "You found me afterwards."  
  
"That's enough." Seto gave a nod of dismissal. "Go into my room and find something else to wear. Preferably something light and not too heavy."  
  
"W-why?" Jounochi stuttered. "Where are we-"  
  
"- I'm going there. And you're going to help me find where they put you."  
  
"I'm not going back!" The blonde's voice was a shrill ultimatum. "Why would you or _anyone_ deliberately go back?" Jounochi clenched his fists and raised them. "You'll have to kill me to make me go back."  
  
Seto barely batted an eyelash. "Don't be theatrical. Obviously, you didn't want money bad enough, or I would offer you that too. It just happens that someone I know is inside and I'm not willing to give up on him. Not like how you gave up on your sister."  
  
The comment stung. Enraged, the blonde snarled, hurling his figure at the other. Seto simply grabbed him by the shoulder with one hand and twisted him helplessly to the side. Jounochi was left hurt on the floor. Again.  
  
"Stay here and calm yourself, inu 2." The blue-eyed figure stood up and slowly made his way towards one of the many rooms inside his underground dwelling. It was a rather large abode, even for someone his size, boasting considerable space with a cavernous, primitive quality. The modern furniture seemed out of place beside the crude bare walls. "And I wouldn't try escaping if I were you. Not unless you can fly."  
  
And with that, he shut the door behind him.  
  
Silence.  
  
It took a few moments before Jounochi began to think clearly again. The first thing he tried was the room Seto had entered.  
  
The blonde slammed the door open, bursting inside. A blast of cool air hit his face. Confused, Jounochi looked up, and saw a spectacular windowless skylight above him. The pale night sky, almost in the reaches of morning, glittered back down on him.  
  
And Seto was nowhere to be seen.  
  
******************************************************  
  
Yuugi's eyes were wide with awe. He held tightly onto the ruby-eyed nighthunter's neck, trusting the other's arms. He rested his head against the other's chest. Yami held the boy firmly. He made another daring, powerful leap, soaring above the starlit sky.  
  
"Amazing." Yuugi marvelled at another dizzying leap and descent. "Almost like you really are flying."  
  
Yami grinned. For a moment, sadness crossed his features but he quickly masked it. "Yes, a lot of people have thought that."  
  
"Can you really fly?" The small boy thought back to the tales of ancient vampires, ones that could take to the sky, wingless, soaring endlessly among the night clouds.  
  
Suddenly, the vampire lost his step, misjudging his leap. He began to plummet downwards, still holding onto the small boy. Yuugi gasped and shut his eyes closed, feeling his heart twist in panic.  
  
"You can look up now."  
  
Reluctantly, the small boy forced his eyes open. He gave a surprised squeak as he saw buildings the size of toy cars quickly decreasing in size. "Yami. We're-"  
  
A pair of pure ebony wings arched gracefully from the vampire's back. It seemed almost effortless; the way the ruby-eyed nighunter twisted them downwards and upwards in great leathery wing-beats. Yami grinned almost mischievously. "I like how you thought I was going to fall."  
  
Surprise, then indignation crept into Yuugi's expression, flushing his cheeks rouge. "You- you purposely did that!"  
  
"Pretty clever of me, wasn't it?"  
  
The sight, or rather sound, of the vampire preening, combined with how closely Yami was holding him was too much for the boy. "You can't just- that's not-" Yuugi spluttered, unable to find the right words.  
  
"I just did." The ruby-eyed vampire pressed his lips gently against the boy's bare neck, careful not to let his fangs touch the soft skin. "It's okay, little one. Just look around, look at how large and beautiful the moon is. I wanted to show you all of it."  
  
It disappointed Yuugi slightly how the vampire addressed him always as 'little one'. The comment suggested inferiority, and would have been slightly demeaning, had it not been Yami saying it. The boy said nothing more and simply gazed at the skies and the clouds they passed effortlessly by. He stared in child-like fascination at the gigantic luminescent face of the moon. The very intensity and perfection of the yellow-white sphere silenced any whispers of awe.  
  
And then, all too quickly, they were back on the earthbound rooftops.  
  
"It's almost daybreak," Yami whispered into the boy's ears, holding Yuugi firmly. "We should be heading back home now." Yuugi nodded.  
  
The vampire suddenly stiffened, his rhythmic leaps slowing to stop. His head turned to one side.  
  
"Something wrong?" Even half-dreaming, Yuugi could sense the tension.  
  
Yami frowned, expression hidden by the shadows. "There's someone." His voice trailed off. "Listen, Yuugi. I just realized that I have something to deal with right now. I'm going to get someone else to escort you back home. Is that okay?"  
  
Yuugi hesitated. He knew the 'someone else' would be another vampire, someone who could potentially leave him a bloodless carcass. The boy forced the fear away. Yami was the Pharaoh of the vampires, the one he should fear the most. So if he was safe with Yami, wouldn't he be safe with the others? The boy nodded, not trusting his voice.  
  
The ruby-eyed nighthunter set Yuugi gently on the rooftop platform. Almost immediately, another figure leapt into view beside Yami. The two talked for brief seconds before the second figure walked towards Yuugi.  
  
"It's all right, little master." The newly arrived vampire beckoned to the small boy. "My name is Mahaado, and I'll bring you back home."  
  
Yuugi nodded, letting the vampire's powerful arms sweep him away. Somehow, it didn't feel the same.  
  
*****************************************  
  
Yami watched Yuugi and Mahaado leave before turning around to address the figure half-hidden under the shadows. He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. "Seto."  
  
"Yami," the other said, his blue eyes flat and cold. There was a moment of stiff silence between the two.  
  
Seto broke the tension. "Remember how you promised me a favour?"  
  
The Pharaoh of the nighthunters gave a curt nod. "Of course. I keep my promises."  
  
"Then I ask this favour now." Seto paused before continuing. "I'll tell you what I require of you first, though I don't plan until tomorrow night to do it."  
  
****************************************************  
  
Jounochi was beyond frustration now. He angrily kicked the wall, feet grinding against the strange dirt grooves before giving up. Why couldn't he just go back home? A part of him told him that he had failed to rescue his sister from blindness. It whispered to him that he was a freak now, a strange thing warped by endless tests and experiments. Whatever _they_ had done to him, it had altered his thinking, making it less rational and more aggressive, almost feral.  
  
The blonde felt his ears, his canines, and the sleek fur running along the back of his hands. No, not human now. He didn't know what he had become.  
  
It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was not going back, not going to finish whatever corrupted scheme the scientists had planned for him. Jounochi missed everyone profoundly; his sister, his friends, even his school. If only he could escape Seto, he could relive his life again. No one would notice the small differences, he convinced himself - they would be easy to hide.  
  
After chasing his thoughts around in circles, Jounochi succumbed to his exhaustion, crawled to a nearby couch and closed his eyes.  
  
He slept through a good portion of the night and the next day before Seto returned. The blonde stirred awake his groggy senses, ready to leap past Seto and into freedom-  
  
- only to see that someone else was behind the blue-eyed figure.  
  
'Perhaps', the blonde reasoned to himself, 'now is not exactly the most brilliant time to escape'  
  
"So, the inu is still here."  
  
Jounochi growled slightly at Seto's stinging comment. He glared balefully at the blue-eyed figure before looking at the other standing behind Seto.  
  
The blonde's jaw nearly dropped. "Y-Yuugi?" His voice came out in a small squeak. Immediately, Jounochi regretted the words. Under the glow of the lamplight, this figure could hardly be mistaken for the blonde's friend. True, there were some startling similarities, but the differences were just as profound.  
  
The guest behind Seto seemed just as surprised by Jounochi's comment. He regarded the blonde curiously and looked as if he wanted to say something. Seto spoke before he had the chance.  
  
"I brought someone else along for the trip," the blue-eyed figure drawled. He locked gazes with Jounochi. "I'd advise you to listen to what I have to say, because. Yami here is quite temperamental with those he doesn't like."  
  
At Jounochi's confused look, Yami gave a wry grin, predatory fangs protruding beneath his upper lip. "I'm a vampire, Jounochi." His startling ruby eyes flashed almost amusedly at Jounochi's apprehension and fear.  
  
"And a damn strong one."  
  
Yami shot a mock-glare at the Seto's undertone. "And _who_ was it that helped me, oh great Seto?"  
  
For some reason, the blonde didn't mind this Yami. There was something offhand and casual about the ruby-eyed figure's posture that made him more open and friendly in contrast to Seto's undeniably cold and stoic character. And for all that Yami claimed to be, Jounochi could simply not imagine him as a vampire. True, it would be awesome if they were real, but the concept of a real vampire was almost as laughable as having Tooth Fairies or Santa Claus going down the chimney, albeit a bit more gothic. Jounochi decided that the fake fangs were for the purpose of fooling people like him.  
  
Jounouchi winced as the fur on his hand reminded him of its presence. Who was he to comment on what was real, when he himself was a freak of humanity?  
  
Yami took a seat beside the blonde. There was something suppressed in the ruby-eyed figure's expression. Jounochi could have sworn that Yami wanted to tell him something.  
  
Seto remained standing. "I told Yami of our little plan." he explained to Jounouchi. "You mentioned that someone else needs to take care of the controls while we go through the doors. Yami will cover our backs and use the security cameras to keep us out of trouble while you lead me to where they took you."  
  
So Jounochi really was going back. Back to Hell, or Inferno, or whatever it was. Was there no way to escape from this nightmare?  
  
"But what if someone catches you?" Jounochi blurted out. He knew it was more a concern of his own well-being than Yami's.  
  
The ruby-eyed figure's lips curved into a smug smirk. "Don't worry about me, Jounochi. You and Seto will be dealing with the hard part. All I need to do is make sure you get in. And trust me, I'm _very_ hard to catch when I put my mind to it."  
  
*****************************************************  
  
Seto glared at Jounochi. "Stop fidgeting. It's not going to help."  
  
The blonde was trembling uncontrollably. He couldn't help it. Just moments ago, when he had again laid eyes on the laboratory building, his feet had refused to carry him further. He tried to reassure himself and tell himself it was okay, and that he would be safe but - dammit! - there was no denying how scared he was.  
  
He was terrified beyond belief. The nightmares plagued his mind, hissing and taunting him. The needles glinted in the light, the scientists stared and murmured at him, the heart monitor beeped sharply.  
  
There was a muffled shout. Jounochi poked his head out of his hiding place behind a large piece of shrubbery and saw Yami's shadowy outline slamming someone into the ground. The ruby-eyed figure was outnumbered by almost ten security guards. Jounochi felt a flash of concern and turned towards Seto, imploring the blue-eyed figure to help. Seto ignored Jounochi's silent request.  
  
There was a loud crack as one of the guards pulled out his gun and began to fire. Yami quickly leapt into the air, flipping backwards acrobatically before landing behind another guard, picking the sentry up from the ground and using him as shield. Using the other guards' hesitation, the ruby-eyed figure slammed his arm into the nearest guard, downing him, before raising his free fist to shove it forcefully into another. Again and again Yami attacked, hoisting his shield-intended guard before him as if he weighed no more than a pencil. The other sentries were still afraid of firing their guns.  
  
Jounochi watched Yami's relentless onslaught in fascination as the ruby-eyed figure nimbly dodged the remaining guards' attacks and knocked them unconscious. Yami then thrust the guard he had used as a shield onto the ground, pressing his heel against the figure's throat, watching almost gleefully as the guard choked.  
  
A bang interrupted the Yami's antics. The ruby-eyed figure glared dangerously at the single sentry standing behind him. A deepening blossom of red was collecting on Yami's shoulder, dribbling down his cloak and clothing onto the cold dirt ground. The ruby-eyed figure snarled and leapt towards the standing guard in a flutter of black cloak. The gun flew into the air and clattered harmlessly onto the ground with a single swipe. And then, for some reason, Yami leant close to the stricken guard and clasped his head against the guard's neck.  
  
Only when Yami had removed his head from the embrace, wiping the remaining dribbles of blood from his lips, did Jounochi realize what the ruby-eyed figure had done. The blonde's heart began to pound uncontrollably.  
  
Yami had not been joking when had he called himself a vampire.  
  
"Let's go," Seto hissed at Jounochi, ignoring the blonde's mortified stare. "Show me the way inside."  
  
Jounochi felt himself obey, though his mind wailed and his legs quivered like jelly. He was going back, back into Hell, escorted by this blue-eyed figure and his demon companion.  
  
His trembling hands found the doorknob, jerking slightly as the door opened without any resistance. A pungent aroma of artificial cleanliness and sickly-sweet formaldehyde [3] tickled his nostrils. The humming whirr of neon-bright lights and whitewashed walls pressed on either side of him.  
  
If Seto was not behind him, Jounochi would have fled or burst out crying. He really was back in Hell again.  
  
***************************************************  
  
What seemed like eons had passed and the pair still trod in silence. The hairs on the back of Jounochi's neck prickled as he took one reluctant footstep after another. Occasionally, he would stop, path suddenly barricaded by a stainless steel door; though it was only seconds before the barrier hissed open and yielded another length of hallway.  
  
The blonde could sense it. He was getting close now - too close for comfort.  
  
Hiss. Click. Another steel door opened. The blonde's mind screamed into the awful silence.  
  
Jounochi stopped. "It's here." He trembled as his voice echoed eerily through the vacant strip of hallway.  
  
Seto nodded. There was a spark of longing in his deep blue eyes. "Is there anything else beyond that door?" He pointed to the entrance to his right, a slightly thicker and tougher-looking barricade compared to the others.  
  
Jounochi shook his head. "I-I don't know. They brought me to this door. That's all I remember."  
  
The blue-eyed figure said nothing. He moved towards where Jounochi had stopped and put his hand on the doorknob. It was locked.  
  
Seto appeared more bemused than frustrated. He seemed to space out for a few seconds, eyes glancing blankly at empty air, before refocusing and hardening. "Yami can't unlock it either."  
  
With a little shrug, the blue-eyed figure grabbed the metal door handle and wrenched it as forcefully as possible. There was a horrible shriek of protesting metal as the entire door bent and twisted against its hinges. Seto gave the handle one more vicious tug. The door shuddered violently and caved inwards.  
  
Seto looked at the door and blinked nonchalantly. He walked over the caved-in door and into the shadows. The lights immediately turned on the moment at his entrance.  
  
Jounochi let his jaw hang open for one more second before gathering up his wits and followed the other.  
  
**************************************************  
  
The room was as clean and immaculate as before. Jounochi couldn't take his eyes off the smooth counter, the now-silent heart machine, the many wires erupting from a bubbling brew near the front of the hospital bed.  
  
~*~  
  
He screamed in agony as another needle was forced into his skin. Already, he could feel its effects, trying to sedate his thrashing body.  
  
"Let me go!" he roared, face covered in sweat, still struggling though each of his limbs were lead weights. "I don't want to do this any more! Free me!"  
  
The boss simply laughed. "But Jounochi. You _promised_ me."  
  
~*~  
  
The blonde quickly ran over to Seto. Jounochi sought to control his shallow, frightened gasps. Cold sweat dribbled down his face.  
  
The blue-eyed figure neared the next door. It yielded easily in to a gentle twist.  
  
Jounochi had never gone further than this room. He had always stayed here, strapped and restrained. The blonde trembled, torn between his fear of being caught and the fear of being alone. He conceded to following Seto, whimpering as quietly as possible.  
  
There was nothing in this room. Jounochi tailed Seto as the other strode over to inspect each corner of the room. The entire space was bare of furniture and equipment. There was only the artificial light glowing overhead.  
  
The door suddenly clicked shut.  
  
Seto whirled around, glaring accusingly at Jounochi. The blonde looked just as appalled.  
  
"_I_ closed the door, Seto Kaiba."  
  
Jounochi immediately recognized the voice. The mocking, alluring tone. He involuntarily bristled, enraged brown eyes locking onto the figure as his fists clenched in rage.  
  
"Oh, hello Jounochi," the boss smiled falsely. "Didn't I say we would meet again? You didn't even come back to get your money."  
  
Jounochi snarled and leapt towards the silver-haired man. He was immediately restrained by Seto. The blue-eyed figure gave Jounochi a brief shake of his head.  
  
"What do you want, Sorcerer?" Seto's challenged the other's confident stare with a glare of his own.  
  
The silver-haired man laughed. "Sorcerer! That's what everyone calls me now. Just the 'Sorceror'." He gave a twisted smile. "I do have a name you know. I _would_ like to be called Pegasus. Well, Pegasus J. Crawford, but Pegasus will do."  
  
"Don't tell me what to do, _Sorcerer_," Seto hissed, releasing Jounochi and ignoring the blonde completely. "I want him back!"  
  
Pegasus grinned triumphantly. "I'm afraid I can't give him back. You see, the moment I do, you will most likely kill me. I find it much easier with you not knowing where he is." He paused, unveiled eye glinting dangerously. "And don't think that your nighthunter friend can help you. Your brother is hidden from the cameras."  
  
Seto gave a low growl but stayed motionless. He couldn't harm Pegasus without losing his brother. Stalemate.  
  
But Jounochi was not so restrained. The blonde-haired youth roared and grabbed the Sorcerer with his hands, locking him in a bear hug. Pegasus faltered under the sudden attack, but retaliated with a powerful kick to the blonde's shin. Jounochi winced at the pain but refused to back away. He turned towards the stunned Seto.  
  
"Seto! I know where your brother is!" Indeed, there was only one place that was hidden from cameras. "Remember how you asked if there was anything beyond that barrier? When we were looking at this door? It's there, Seto. Break it open, if you can."  
  
~*~ He was drugged and half-conscious again.  
  
"The kid's a bastard." The scientist guarding him glared hatefully at the blonde. "He almost bit my fingers off, glove and all."  
  
The other snorted. "Frankly, I don't see why we don't just send him down _there_ with that other miserable freak."  
  
"Wouldn't work." The first scientist shook his head. "The boss wants to see the progress on this one. First time we experimented on a human, you see. As secure as it is down there, they've got no cameras."  
  
Someone else walked in. "Hey Steve. It's time to shift guards with me. You get to go look after the brat. You know where it is right?"  
  
Steve sighed. "Yeah, I know. The big doors to the left of here. The code's-"  
  
Jounochi fell unconscious. ~*~  
  
Sensing the other's determination and confidence, Seto nodded and quickly fled. The door clicked shut behind him.  
  
Jounochi released his hold on Pegasus and glared at him. The blonde cracked his knuckles and gave a feral grin. "Come on, _boss_. It's just you and me."  
  
**************************************************  
  
Yami sensed immediately that something was wrong. The cameras were off-access to where both Jounochi stood and the gate Seto had blasted through. Yes, blasted, since there were no other ways to get inside.  
  
Yami did not fear for Seto: he knew what the blue-eyed figure was capable of. Who he doubted was Jounochi. Pegasus alone with anyone was dangerous.  
  
Abandoning his position, the ruby-eyed nighthunter sped down the hallways. Without hesitation, he passed by the jaws of the steel doors that he had locked open.  
  
He immediately spotted Seto's handiwork. It had been twisted right off the hinges. The larger door, the big iron barrier to the right had been melted open. The thick metal still sizzled and hissed with an acrid aroma.  
  
Help Jounochi, deal with Seto later - if the other even needed his help. Yami rushed into the room, past the equipment and silent machinery, and burst open the single door at the other end. The ruby-eyed nighthunter scanned the sight.  
  
Jounochi was sprawled on the ground, barely conscious. His body sported several gashed wounds. Trembling and growling, the blonde glared at his opponent.  
  
Pegasus looked amused. His single eye taunted the blonde, figure deceptively relaxed. Yami was not fooled. He had tested the Sorcerer's strength.  
  
Pegasus noticed the ruby-eyed nighthunter. The silver-haired man tore his eye away from the helpless Jounochi and directed it toward the vampire. He smiled. "Well, if it isn't the Pharaoh. Fancy seeing you here."  
  
Yami growled. "You knew I was here, Sorcerer."  
  
"Please, none of that." The silver-haired man kept his smile. "I really do prefer the name Pegasus. It has a nice ring to it."  
  
The ruby-eyed nighthunter ignored the request. His eyes flickered towards Jounochi and then back to Pegasus. "Let him go, Sorcerer."  
  
"Whatever do you mean?" Pegasus feigned a surprised look. "I'm not even near Jounochi."  
  
Fed up with the sorcerer's antics, Yami snarled and charged in a blur towards the silver-haired man. His hands grappled with air.  
  
As fast as the vampire moved, Pegasus was faster.  
  
The Sorcerer had vanished.  
  
*******************************************  
  
Jounochi groaned. He had thought he had had the advantage, but the tables had quickly turned, making him realize that Pegasus had been toying with him.  
  
The blonde had tried to attack, but Pegasus was always faster. The way the silver-haired man moved and attacked, it seemed like Pegasus was indeed what Seto had called him - a sorcerer.  
  
Seto had never been wrong. It didn't seem like he was this time either.  
  
It was too late for him to fix his mistake. The numerous cuts and lashes on his body stung horribly, and he wanted nothing else but to lapse into unconsciousness from the pain. But he couldn't let Pegasus win. He continued to glare, baring his teeth to appear as menacing as possible.  
  
A good thing Yami had come when he did. Jounochi didn't know how much longer he could have kept up the façade. The loss of blood was making him dizzy and exhausted, and he fought to keep his eyes open, to suck in every trembling mouthful of air.  
  
The ruby-eyed vampire neared Jounochi. The blonde could feel Yami experimentally prod him before lifting him up. A jolt of pain travelled up the blonde's arm but he ignored it. Yami carried Jounochi like a potato sack slung over one shoulder, moving effortlessly out of the desecrated room into the hallway. He took a hesitant look at the gaping maw to the left of him before heading in the other direction.  
  
Jounochi felt Yami pause. The blonde lifted his exhausted lids and saw that the hallway barricade was shut. But it didn't make sense. How did Yami get in? Not unless-  
  
"Hello, Pharaoh." A booming voice echoed over an invisible loudspeaker. "You carelessly left the control center unguarded so I thought I might add some entertainment." The sorcerer's voice dissolved into harsh, maniacal barks. "You have exactly sixty seconds to leave the building. If you don't - boom!" More hollow laughter ensued, followed by a mechanical click and then silence.  
  
Yami snarled angrily. He scanned the other various doors, hoisting Jounochi into a more secure position before making his move.  
  
Jounochi felt the vampire glare at the barricade and sensed an incredible power building within the ruby-eyed figure. He chanced a blink, and quite suddenly, the barricade was not there anymore. It had been melted into a mess of hissing chrome sludge. The blonde was too numb to express anything but stared in awe.  
  
Again and again, Yami performed the same trick. It took roughly five seconds to melt down each barrier, and much longer for the vampire to replenish whatever power or magic he had used.  
  
Another barrier hissed and melted. Behind it was a single door - the exit to freedom. Jounochi felt Yami falter and stumble, most likely drained from expending so much energy. The blonde prayed that Yami wouldn't drop him.  
  
Gathering energy for a last desperate lunge, the ruby-eyed vampire slammed his figure against the door and burst outside. The tendrils of cool night air greeted them. A muffled silence, different from the buzzing artificial lights of the laboratory hovered in the darkness.  
  
Gasping and hobbling tiredly, Yami took a few more steps until he was safe enough from the building. He then gently set Jounochi on the ground and collapsed himself.  
  
The entire building exploded barely a second later. A gigantic inferno of fire and smoke erupted, consuming the whitewashed complex whole, bathing it in ruby and yellow flames. Glass crackled and shattered under the heat, accompanied by the shuddering of the laboratory foundations.  
  
Jounochi's eyes suddenly shot wide open. He struggled to stand, still staggering from the pain and loss of blood like a drunkard. His head roared loudly, but he pushed it back. "Seto! Seto's in there!"  
  
As if on cue, a gigantic creature burst from the ceiling of the burning laboratory, large wings carrying it away from the scalding flames. Its chrome-white body glistened under the moonlight, outlining the lithe serpentine figure. A human stood on the creature's back, a small boy no older than ten.  
  
Yami looked bemusedly at Jounochi. The blonde stared at the gigantic beast with large white wings and chrome-plated body. For a second, the creature pivoted its triangular head and stared directly at Jounochi with its steely cobalt-blue eyes. Then, with another sweep of its wings, it ascended high into the night sky, figure engulfed by the darkness.  
  
Jounochi gaped. "That's.?"  
  
The vampire said nothing. He didn't need to.  
  
******************************************************  
  
End notes:  
  
[1] Just to clear something up. Jou was there in the movie night in the first chapter, but that was over two weeks ago. Remember I put those little time interval stars near the end saying *two weeks later*?  
  
Why hasn't anyone noticed Jou's disappearance? Ahh.. but Pegasus isn't one to leave jobs half-done. Jou could just be 'on vacation' for all that they knew.  
  
[2] "Inu" in Japanese means "dog". Figured that if I'm going to make references, I might as well make them consistently XD.  
  
[3] A scientific argument made by PH-san. The only time I smelt that stuff was when we got to look at preserved insects. All I remember was that it smelt really pungent, and most pungent things for me smell sweet *sweatdrops*  
  
This chapter absolutely exhausted me. It took almost four hours and a lot of more creativity than I could spare ^^;;; Well, hoped you liked it! 


	4. The Pharaoh's Tale Part 1 of 2

You might recognize me by the name Yami. The 'author' of "Darkworld", has used the name several times because my real name is not nearly as romantic sounding; made of a series of ancient Egyptian syllables considered nonsense in your language.  
  
But this time, I am not asking her to tell the tale. This story is mine, and mine alone.  
  
Whether you believe it or dismiss it as fiction, among the sea of fictions around you; that is your choice completely.  
  
My name is Yami. And I come to tell you my tale. One that began three thousand years ago and would, ironically, make you doubt me even more.  
  
*******************************************  
  
We are a world that lies like a shadow inside your own. We come out only at night. We can dominate, betray, attack, and love within our self-maintained society.  
  
the only restriction is that our world cannot be discovered by humans  
  
because the humans would do anything to destroy us  
  
for we are against the will of  
  
God  
  
*****************************************  
  
The Pharaoh's Tale (Part 1 of 2)  
  
"You may not." He glared at me with his stern ruby eyes. "I command you to stay here."  
  
Father was being a prick again. Ever since my birth I have been confined within the palace walls. As big as the palace may be; as nice as the people are inside; it is not enough for me. I want to see what lay beyond.  
  
"Just once?" I begged again, knowing that it wouldn't make a difference.  
  
Father said nothing. As Pharaoh, his power of authority was overwhelming; as my father, he was just as authoritative. But he was right. He had just reason to keep me confined within the palace. It was our curse, the curse of the royal family.  
  
We are hunters. We drink blood from the innocent in order to sustain our own lives. We are virtually immortal if not exposed to Ra's piercing light or those of Ra's kindred; fire.  
  
Father always carried out his conquests when Ra disappeared over the horizon and Nut claimed the skies with her dark veil. As Pharaoh, he needed to retain the loyalty and trust of his followers. He had to convince them that his avoidance for sunlight and appearances at nightfall had reason. And what could be a better reason than to explain that he was on a conquest to destroy demons, since demons appeared only at night? Yes, my father was lofty. He was not only preserving the royal secrecy but also 'saving' his people from the demons. They praised my father and his conquests.  
  
Father ignored my last pleading looks before heading towards the palace doors. A pair of sturdy guards stood attentive on either side of the barred entrance. "Stay here, Yami. Don't do anything rash. When you succeed me as Pharaoh, you will have your handful of duties. But now, you should wait. Patience is also a part of growing up."  
  
I fumed as my father passed regally through the now-open palace doors and out the gates to the outside world. I knew he treasured me, even more so after my mother's death, but he treated me like an infant! It was ridiculous - I was already at twelve years of age.  
  
How long did my father expect to keep me inside this Ra-forsaken palace? My only opportunity for a chance at freedom had made its exit with my father and his elite army of loyal followers.  
  
There was always a last resort. I had stayed away from this option since it involved begging, pleading, and a greater exertion of mental prowess than I could spare, especially after bargaining with my father. And even if I managed to get away with it, I would still be in big trouble if I were caught.  
  
Sometimes, the most exhilarating things are the illicit ones.  
  
************************************************  
  
"I cannot approve of that, young prince. What did your father say?"  
  
I sighed and rolled my eyes. This was the Priest-in-training Mahaado's typical response after almost anything I proposed. Yesternight I wanted to dye my hair with a powder-blue substance that most women use as facial make-up, though Mahaado was quick to reject that proposal too. I have never met anyone his age, barely a few years older than mine that could be so methodical.  
  
"Please Mahaado?" I whined, knowing all to well that I sounded childish and immature for my years. "No one will know if I go out for just a couple of minutes."  
  
"I cannot-"  
  
"But I'm hungry!" I protested, "and there's nothing to eat here." I began to sulk in my typical spoiled brat-like attitude.  
  
Mahaado fell silent. I knew he was contemplating things, weighing the lesser of the two consequences with his conscience. It was no secret to him the royal family's true nature of 'hunger', since he too was one of us, though not as powerful as any of the Royal Family. He knew I could not harm any normal human working in the palace in my father's absence, for fear of arousing suspicion.  
  
"Fine." The priest-in-training nodded stiffly, as if burdened with a load beyond his sixteen or so odd years. "I shall escort you outside."  
  
I gave my best exasperated sigh. "Honestly, Mahaado, do you think I need an escort to hunt with? I'm not _that_ young and I can take care of myself. Besides, if you keep on babying me like that, how am I supposed to learn the roles and responsibilities of being the future Pharaoh?"  
  
At last defeated, Mahaado gave a weak nod. Strands of his deep-violet hair escaped the plain cloth headdress he donned on his head. "Very well, young prince. I shall give you exactly ten candleflickers [1] to nourish yourself and come back. Do not stray too far outside the palace, and make sure you inform one of the guards monitoring the gate of your departure."  
  
"Yes, Mahaado," I intoned dully. Inside, my heart was clamouring. A priest, even a priest-in-training, was allowed permission to access all the gates of the palace. I would be free to see everyone outside the palace walls. I grinned smugly. I had surpassed my father's almighty instructions of confinement.  
  
Bare seconds later, I was out the palace door, tasting the first breaths of freedom.  
  
***************************************************  
  
The desert night air was cooler than I had expected, and I spent a few minutes just staring in awe at the deep blue sky and single glowing face of the moon above. I felt like I was gazing into an intricate tapestry, alive with reeling senses and sounds. I could taste the acrid desert air, and feel it brush against my skin in tingling tremours. I heard the rustle and sway of trees, free from any coddling hand, growing tall and proudly amongst the desert sand.  
  
I laughed and heard my voice echo in the vast empty landscape. I had distanced myself as far from the palace as possible so that it appeared only a vague, glittering beetle in the distance. Then, with exhilaration, I shoved my feet into the cool white sands and propelled myself into the infinite distance, enjoying the feel of chill, live wind brushing against my hair and the individual grains of sand burying between my toes.  
  
I felt like a bird escaping from its eternal cage. Just then, running and laughing in the Egyptian desert sands, I would have forsaken my immortality, my essence, just to experience the freedom. I could not imagine how much I would give to see Ra's light unveiled within the same freedom.  
  
A light I had only heard but never seen.  
  
A sudden shadow blotted out the pale moonlight. I winced as a cacophonous symphony of cries resounded over my head, looking up just to catch the sight of what seemed like a cloud of feathered beings. They appeared almost human, arms stretching into long wings, feet clawed and scaled, tapered into talons. Multicoloured feathers perforated their skin, melding with their equally flamboyant clothing.  
  
I felt a dull rumble behind me. Looking back, I saw a gigantic cloud of yellow sand bearing a sea of warriors riding large, powerful horses. My heart plummeted. Riding in the very front of the assault, eyes fixated on the bird-creatures flying madly in the air, was none other than my father. The Pharaoh.  
  
I forced my legs to move even before I regained my wits. Digging my heels through the soft desert sand in hasty effort, I ran as far as possible away from the dustcloud of father and horses. My actions were too slow; I knew he would immediately spot me at this rate. In a last-minute scrabble of wits, I threw myself down onto the ground, flattening myself as much as possible. The thunderous roars passed by me, and all I could hear for the longest time were the neighs of the horses, the grunts of the warriors, my father's commands, and the shrill screeching of the bird-human creatures.  
  
The roars, screeches, and cries continued. I lay still, breath coming in short loud gasps. The once-gentle sand grated against my skin. I jerked, surprised, as the shaft of an arrow flit past me, burrowing harmlessly behind me into the desert sand. The soft whispers of arrows being drawn and released accompanied the ear-wrenching cries of those who suffered their attacks.  
  
I kept my head down, but when the screeches and roars did not diminish and grew louder, I was tempted to see exactly what was going on. I wanted to see my father in action.  
  
There he was, riding on his beautiful white stallion, powerful arms cradling a bow and drawn arrow. With an almost effortless shrug, he released the shaft, watching it plunge straight into the heart of its target before fetching another shaft from his sack. All of them, father and his warriors, looked so brave and valiant fighting the strange bird-humans, that I felt my blood fill with adrenaline and lusted to be by their side, drawing arrows, watching in satisfaction as my targets shrieked horribly and fell.  
  
A brilliant stream of colours suddenly flashed by my vision. I blinked before I realized what had happened; one of the bird-humans had fallen right in front of me. I lay there, unmoving, as the creature flopped and gasped horribly, eyes bulging, lips opening and closing wordlessly. A bubble of foam-pink dribbled down its chin, and its clawed fingers grasped vainly at an arrow protruding from its chest. As I stared, transfixed and horrified at the same time, the bird-creature stopped, noticing my presence. It glared at me with hate-filled ruby eyes, the unexpectedly human face contorted in a snarl of rage. I thought the creature would leap at me in anger and my muscles tensed, adrenaline pumping, ready for the onslaught.  
  
The bird-creature's amber irises lolled to the top, whites of its eyes flashing before it fell lifelessly onto the ground in a heap of flesh and feathers. Blood dribbled down from the arrow still stuck in its chest, snaking a path across the desert sand.  
  
My blood-lust was aroused momentarily at the sight, but I was too repulsed to obey it. The reek of blood was too strong around me; not just amongst the carcasses of the bird-humans, but also from my father's army, his comrades, some lying half-dead on the sand, moaning profusely in pain, various organs ripped from their bodies.  
  
It was then that I realized why father's elite army hunted only at night. They were as powerful and immortal as any of the Royal Family, bound to serve the darkness forever. How my father had manipulated them, how he had manipulated Mahaado's lineage I was reluctant to understand. All I realized then was that there were many of us, blood-drinkers and night- hunters. The Royal Army was a multitude of demons!  
  
I could have laughed at the irony - demons fighting demons - but I quickly sobered. I was born into the cursed lineage and thus I was no better. I could become no better than my father; and as much as I denied it, I knew one day that I too would seduce younglings and half-adults to join my army and create another camaraderie of demons.  
  
The truth stunned me. My own revelation made my blood run cold. If the humans whom my father ruled ever found out about this.  
  
I was up and running before I could stop myself. They were winning, my father and his army of night-hunters. My feet were pounding aimlessly across the piles of slain and injured bodies, scarlet collecting on my heels. I ran, mind whirling, ignoring the surprised shout of a familiar voice. My form was weaponless and bare against this clashing army, this desert of carnage.  
  
There was an awful chorus of shrieks, and I looked up just in time to catch another bushel of feathers. Instead of plummeting, the bird-human pumped its wings in a powerful sweep downwards, barely rising above my figure. I realized too late what was happening as a pair of icy, scaled talons suddenly grabbed my bare shoulders and jerked upwards. The creature was trying to pull me into the air!  
  
Another bird-human joined the assault, talons clawing and gouging into my skin, leaving bloody scratches on my once-ivory shoulders and arms. I knew I had been foolish. I had plunged myself deep into the enemy ranks in my confusion. There was no way for my father to reach me without suffering a livid counterattack, and the arrows' limited range only heightened his anger and frustration. Even my furious struggles did nothing to qualm the onslaught - there were simply too many of them around me.  
  
I could hear my father's enraged snarls even as I was hauled into the air, rising in the middle of a whirlwind of feathers, claws and shrieks to a dizzying height. I whimpered in remorse, wondering if father was upset and angry with me. Yet, I was already too far up to hear him, borne by the raucous bird-humans high into the night sky, wind whipping dangerously around my helpless, swaying figure. The group of bird-humans that had cluttered around me thinned out, rejoining the battle fray. I was a lead weight carried by a single bird-human, its talons clamped painfully onto my arms to keep me in the air.  
  
I briefly wondered where it was taking me. Most likely as a hostage to be used as leverage. If I left the bird-humans to their devious schemes, I would become a source of grief for my father and the entire kingdom of Egypt.  
  
I reacted spontaneously. Shifting my weight to one side, I forced my left arm lower until my face was level with one of the bird-human's scaly ankles. I twisted my head to one side and plunged my teeth straight into the creature's foul skin.  
  
The bird-human screeched and thrashed furiously, releasing its hold on one of my arms in an attempt to use its talons to bat away my head. I quickly pulled my mouth away from the foul creature and jerked my body to one side. Caught completely off balance, the bird-human screeched and flapped awkwardly as the both of us descended rapidly. Just before hitting the ground, I wrenched my trapped arm free and fell onto the sandy desert ground meters away from the bird-human.  
  
Slowly, painfully, I picked myself up from the ground. I heard a rustle of feathers; the bird-human had also gotten back onto its feet. I turned to face its burning orange eyes, eyes that looked like unfiltered starbursts, and for a single moment, I saw it not as a hideous creature that sought to kidnap and kill me but something exotic and beautiful. The creature was absolutely stunning in its deviation, wings fanning out like a trophy peacock.  
  
It hissed angrily at me and I felt no revulsion. I no longer had the will to fight it.  
  
The bird-human advanced towards me, arms fanned out, finger talons ready to gouge and claw at my face. Its eyes flashed with anger and deep hatred.  
  
I saw it run towards me, saw the danger I had put myself in, and did nothing. At least, I thought I did nothing.  
  
A wave of nausea hit me. It was as if, in that split-second frame that the bird-human was charging at me, time had slowed down. The nausea swept through my body, causing me to involuntarily recoil. I shivered, knees collapsing altogether, as all the feeling left my body save a burning sensation within my veins.  
  
There's no possible way for me to explain this. It was as if pure Energy, the very essence thriving in my blood, had pooled into a single concentrated attack. Something was burning, emblazoned on my forehead, because the next moment, all the Energy escaped from it in a horrendous roar of sound and light.  
  
The bird-human gave an awful screech and then was there no longer. It had been wiped out completely. Nothing remained.  
  
Wide-eyed, I stared. With trembling fingers, I felt my forehead but there was nothing. The strange flaring Energy, the nausea, the sheer thrill of power had disappeared the moment the attack had wiped out the bird- creature.  
  
I would have liked to have said that my first experience with Magick, the ancient Magick passed down from my family generation by generation along with our curse, was a profound and self-inspiring experience. Truthfully, all I felt was guilt and shame. I didn't know what I had done.  
  
But I know now. The Magick that courses through the Royal family's blood - it is what makes us demons.  
  
**************************************************  
  
I was hungry beyond description. It had been hours since I had last 'nourished myself' - as Mahaado kindly put it - and the lack of _anything_ warm and pulsating was driving me insane. Even in my half-delirious mind, I could spot the vacant wisps of Ra's boat already rising over the horizon. My heart quailed. My father: he had warned me about the dangers of sunlight.  
  
My eyes burned just staring at the tendrils of light reflecting off the quickly fleeting night sky. I picked up my pace, hungry and desperate. Was this how I would die; starving, left to be incinerated by Ra's flames of judgement? Was I to pay for the actions of my kind?  
  
No. I was alone. I had no one. I belonged to no one.  
  
I did not know if the sudden shadow that loomed over me was real or just an illusion of my delirious, fevered mind. I cannot fully remember if I begged it to help me or if it acted on its own accord. I had given up already, surrendered to Ra's will. I felt my body hit the ground before I blacked out.  
  
****************************************************  
  
Cold water splashed over my face. I grunted, batting at the air in annoyance before snapping my eyes open. I looked about my unfamiliar surroundings . Somehow, I was in a large cave, lying on a pile of straw. Intricate stone beams, much like half-completed obelisks, protruded from above and below the ground at random intervals. Hues of multicoloured light emitted from what seemed like rocks embedded into the roof of the cavern. I could hear the drip-drops of water falling in this large expanse.  
  
There was no one in sight. Yet, if I was alone, who had brought me here? And who had dumped water over me? My throat was searing, and I rubbed it in attempts to soothe the pain. A dull ache was numbing my body, dampening my senses.  
  
I coughed hoarsely. "Hello?" My voice echoed slightly in the cavern.  
  
I was about to try again when I suddenly erupted into a fit of coughs. I clutched my stomach, trying to calm the pangs of hunger. My nerves felt like liquid fire, lungs saturated in pain with each breath I took.  
  
Footsteps were approaching me, but they were dim. All I felt was the lust, the desire for blood, for something to quench the horrible thirst devastating my body.  
  
There were many voices now, high and low, murmuring loudly to each other. Even in my half-comatose state I could hear them whisper disapprovingly at me, tongues clicking in hushed anger.  
  
A deep voice penetrated the mumblings. "Is this the one you found?" It sounded angry.  
  
Another lighter voice responded. "Yes. I had no clue it was one of _them_ though."  
  
I broke into another fit of coughs. Their voices were becoming dim now, barely audible.  
  
"It's dying, you know. Without blood, it will perish." The first of the two voices said it with no trace of sympathy.  
  
A pause and then another rumble of murmurs from the crowd.  
  
Unable to endure the pain, I collapsed to one side, breathing irregularly, eyes blank and wide open like a fish out of water.  
  
"He is my finding so I will deal with him." The second voice silenced the murmurs with its ultimatum. "Now I wish all of you to leave, including you, Elder."  
  
There was a shuffle of feet and then silence. Only a single beating heart remained within the room. I could hear it, smell it, even from here.  
  
A face approached my blurring vision. It appeared completely human, a youth perhaps around the same age as Mahaado. He had neatly cropped brown hair and startling blue eyes, as blue as the purest lapis lazuli.  
  
And skin, a shade darker than mine, though not as tanned as most Egyptians. Skin, with millions of veins underneath, all pulsating at once, with warmth, with life, with-  
  
"Here."  
  
I looked down. He had shoved his forearm by my mouth, palm open. I trembled weakly, fighting all my screaming instincts as I looked into his face for permission. His pure blue eyes reflected no emotion.  
  
At last, unable to control the desire, I summed up the last of my strength and clamped my lips against his forearm, fangs immediately protruding to penetrate his skin.  
  
The sensation was overwhelming. Every one of my dying nerves was being reborn, rusting copper gilded over with gold. The feeling of it dribbling down my chin and coursing into my mouth could have made me cry in absolute reverence. I was being fed the blood of life, the powerful, intoxicating substance that rolled against my tastebuds burning with pleasure. And the taste, so sweet and tangy at the same time, thick and warm - so refined. It tasted nothing like the normal humans I drank from; more like drinking a well-preserved wine.  
  
A tinge of conscience swept through me. I faltered, lost my blood- lust, and quickly pulled away . Exhausted, sated, and soothed again, I looked up gratefully at the blue-eyed figure.  
  
By tasting a person's blood, I could also get a vague sense of who someone was. I knew this figure was not human; though exactly _what_ I did not know.  
  
Silence. The figure looked at his already-healing forearm and then back at me. So cold, his blue eyes.  
  
"Th-thank you," I stammered. I hastily wiped the dribbles of blood from my chin, resisting the urge to lick my hand. "I-"  
  
"I'll make this simple for the both of us." The blue-eyed figure's words were cold and biting. "I rescue you, you obey me. Otherwise, you leave."  
  
I felt like I had been slapped. Here he was, playing the saint and offering me life, only to treat me like shit right afterwards. What game was he playing here? I bit my lip to prevent a retort. "I. don't have anywhere to return to." Well, it was the half-truth anyway. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it." A part of me couldn't believe that I had been reduced to this.  
  
Incredulousness swept through the figure's expression. It was quickly followed by a detached bemusement, much like the expression of a cat watching its prey squirm. I was unnerved by his stare.  
  
"Then I'll warn you right now. If you think you'll get any more pity from me, then go and cry mountains. I'll slap your ass raw and then laugh about it." The blue-eyed figure shrugged and turned away, losing interest in me.  
  
Stunned by his choice of words, I was tempted to bite back at his comment. He wouldn't really hurt me would he?  
  
I think this was the first time I learned what a literal meaning was.  
  
***********************************************  
  
He called himself Seto. I preferred to remember him as the slave driver, the cold, blue-eyed individual who stared at me every evening with his fixed half-frown. He made me follow him like a ladies' lapdog, sometimes even wearing a collar and leash around my neck to symbolize my inferiority to him.  
  
He laughed at my flimsy means of self-defense and told me to 'fight unrestrained'. In the first few lessons, it meant for me to attempt to charge at him, only to get hurtled backwards by just one of his powerful blows. He wasn't afraid to attack me, to hurt me, damage me, break some of my bones. I remember that I was once so beaten up in a training session that it was only through my fleeting desire to live, to survive this ordeal that I somehow crawled back into my small resting place.  
  
You see, though Seto mocked and laughed and punished me crudely, he was also the only one who offered me his blood. No one else dared to come near me, for fear of being infected with whatever disease my presence would bring, and most stared at me scornfully. The youths, the ones my age, would snicker at me, even without the presence of Seto or the leash.  
  
And yet, I developed a fierce bond with Seto. Perhaps it was a bond enforced only by the blood he gave me, the blood which strengthened me and kept me alive. Perhaps it was a gratuitous bond. In any case, I felt a devotion that was almost attraction towards the cold blue-eyed figure. He hit me and I came back, asking for more.  
  
*****************************************************  
  
"Your name is Yami right?"  
  
I turned at the voice, coming face to face with a youth about my age flanked by a group of his peers.  
  
I forced a polite nod. Seto had long reinforced the meaning of politeness to me.  
  
"Master Seto instructs you, doesn't he?"  
  
The word 'Master' sounded funny with 'Seto', but, after much reasoning, I realized there was no difference. Wasn't the blue-eyed figure my sworn master and I his always dutiful slave? I nodded yet again, not liking where this conversation was going.  
  
The youth guffawed. "I can't believe Master Seto would take someone like _you_. He's legendary among us." The youth's face grew ugly, bitter. "I was the next candidate for his student. And you're not even one of _us_."  
  
I was getting sick of this by now. The same conversation always sprouted up every week, about the 'outcast' creature, about the one who was 'not like them', 'weak', and an 'inexcusable hassle'. I often wondered why they even tolerated my presence. Was it the guilt of knowing that I would die isolated in a desert without sustenance and exposed to fatal sunlight? In this semi-underground cavern, surrounded by warm teeming bodies, I was safe.  
  
I bowed politely. "I'm sorry, but if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to go." It sounded humble, so unlike my previous royal self, though it was the guise that I had been taught to adopt. I rushed over to one side of the youth, head still bowed low.  
  
The other grabbed me roughly by the arm. "You're not leaving yet," he hissed angrily in my ear, pulling me forcefully towards the upper hallways. My eyes widened. I never travelled any higher than the middle hallways in fear of sunlight. The other was deliberately trying to drag me outside!  
  
The youth had a nasty grin on his face. He pointed to one of the sunlit exits of the cavern. "I want to see what Master Seto has taught you. That is, if you have enough wits, outcast."  
  
Before I could protest or struggle, the gaggle of youths collected into one mass and proceeded to drag me out. My scream died halfway in my throat as a hand muffled my mouth.  
  
Already, the sunlight was searing my eyes, forcing me to shut them. I could feel its unbearable heat as the group advanced, and I wondered if I could somehow break free, make a dash-  
  
And suddenly I was outside. I cringed, waiting for the pain.  
  
And waited. The thought 'still waiting' occurred in my mind. [2]  
  
At last, I forced my eyes open, staring at the impatient faces glowering at me. The sunlight stung my eyes somewhat, but otherwise, had no effect, save caressing my skin with a soothing warmth. I was utterly confounded.  
  
The original youth glared at me as if I had just discovered to count my toes. "You took Seto's blood, didn't you? Drinking blood from any of our kind, even if you were only mortal, does have potent effects. One of them is an immunity to flames."  
  
I was still rendered speechless. A part of my mind was yammering about the sunlight, about seeing Ra's face for the first time, about a million wonders of gazing at a spectacle in _daylight_. Yet, the most predominant thought in my mind was a question. _What_ exactly were they - Seto, this youth, all of them in this dwelling?  
  
The others had begun to form a circle around the first youth and me. I looked around nervously but there were no pity in their faces. The first youth grinned back at me confidently. "It is quite common for two students training under different Masters to challenge each other to duels [3] involving any form of physical or Energy-induced attack. The winner is the first one to draw blood on his opponent."  
  
I had never heard about such a thing. The sheer idea of a battle between two youths like us appalled me, even though I had endured more than my share of pain with Seto. It just felt. wrong for me to attack anyone for fun. I didn't see any pleasure in killing or hurting anyone.  
  
Ah, but who was I fooling? Am I not the natural killer, the _blood-sucker_ who must hurt or take the lives of others to live? How horrendous, and ironic at the same time.  
  
I felt myself nodding mutely.  
  
And then, even before I was ready, he attacked.  
  
I narrowly missed his extended fist, falling on one knee to avoid the blow before hastily shuffling backwards. All of Seto's training tips meticulously drilled into my mind guided my actions, allowing me to dodge and retaliate to all of my opponent's offensive attacks without suffering any damage.  
  
A thought occurred to me. How exactly did we draw blood without weapons?  
  
Unfortunately, the thought caused me to lose my concentration, and I was slapped painfully on the chest, my butt hitting the ground hard. Cheeks flushed with humiliation even before the chorus of laughter rang out around me, I sprung to my feet, tapping into my vampiric reflexes to pinpoint every single twist of my opponent's motion. Muscles coiled with anticipation, I waited for my opponent to begin lunging at me once again before I moved as quickly as possible, darting underneath my opponent's outstretched arm and behind him. Immediately I wrapped my arm around my opponent's neck and twisted his other free arm behind him in the awkward angle Seto had shown - or rather, demonstrated - to me.  
  
Elevated by the rapture of the battle, I firmly held my opponent's struggling frame and leaned my head closer to him, head by his ears.  
  
"So," I whispered, soft enough only for him to hear, "I have to draw blood to win?" A wicked thought occurred in my mind, and I brushed my lips on his prone neck, deliberately letting my fangs touch his skin. "I wonder what you taste like?"  
  
The response was immediate. The youth snarled and shoved me forcefully away, staring at me with wild green eyes. He spat at my stunned figure. "You bastard," he hissed. "_Demon_."  
  
The others joined in with the youth's chants, screaming obscenities in my ears. My opponent hushed them with a dismissive wave of his hand. He grinned, rather mischievously. "You might be clever, _demon_, with your little tricks. But you see, we are the masters of all that live. Our species are above the filth of your kind."  
  
And before I could even ask exactly what his kind was, he decided to show me.  
  
The boy's figure began to grow and stretch, distorting into what seemed like a horrific mess of spines and limbs. Slowly, they began to tighten and rearrange themselves, skin darkening and forming millions upon millions of fine scales. Large, leathered wings shot from his back, unfolding in crooked snaps.  
  
My heartbeat quickened tenfold. Staring back at me was no longer a human youth but a _dragon_.  
  
It was easily ten feet high, a shade of pure green. It twisted its triangular head, beady eyes staring straight at me. I could see the layers of serrated teeth hiding within the creature's half-open jaw.  
  
They were all _dragons_? Was that why they stared at me scornfully? Because I could never be one of them, never be as powerful or understand what it meant to shape-shift into something else?  
  
Even in this moment of fear, of understanding the potential danger between what was a petty jealously, I couldn't help but be curious. Were they humans able to adopt the form of dragons or dragons able to become humans? Or had the integration become so complete that it no longer mattered?  
  
The dragon, my opponent, screeched a defiant cry at me before snapping its wings fully open, bringing them forcefully downwards several times to rise into the air. I was overwhelmed just by the wing power of this creature. How I was expected to defeat it was beyond me - my primary concern was for my safety.  
  
The creature flapped its wings before making a tight dive for me. Unsure where to expect the aerial assault, I could only hunch my frame and make myself a smaller target for the large creature. Unfortunately, one of the dragon's hind claws caught my tunic, snagging me effortlessly into the air. Again I was overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu, of the bird-humans stowing me away while my father stared at me in a mixture of anger and frustration.  
  
Even as I hung there helplessly and tried to figure a way to get myself back onto the ground without killing myself in the process, I couldn't help but notice how _no one bothered to help me_. I really was the outcast; the demon; the one not fit to be part of this clan. I could have cried.  
  
My opponent did not hesitate before flexing its wings, wriggling its legs in attempts to dislodge me. My shirt was immediately unhooked, and I felt myself falling. Falling from this height, I knew I would die.  
  
I closed my eyes as a deep wave of nausea washed through me. I dismissed it for vertigo and braced myself for the impact.  
  
Time began to distort. My descent seemed to slow down until I was floating. A rush of power began to collect within my veins and my head throbbed, forehead burning with energy. However, this time, instead of escaping from me in an offensive burst of power, the energy spread across my spine and collected there. The energy, the Magick, began to fuse with my very structure, my tissues and bones, moulding them to its will.  
  
As time re-enacted itself and I began to fall again, I felt a shudder of air, a release of power, and then, I was no longer falling. Attached to my shoulder blades was a pair of pure ebony wings. They seemed to dance with a life of their own, manipulating the air to hold me up. And yet, they conceded to my conscious efforts to move them. The Magick coursing through my blood was far from finished. It fed me energy but it also burned with anger.  
  
Snarling, I sped into the sky in quick wing beats, catching up with the altitude of my opponent. Though I was twice as small as the other's dragon- shifted form, the ancient Magick coursing through me made me confident, almost arrogant.  
  
As I concentrated my Magick into an attack, I felt my hatred for my opponent, growing, climaxing into an intolerable rage. I wanted to maim him, rip him apart, tear and indulge in his insides, peel his skin and lick the flesh underneath, twist off the bones and-  
  
I blinked as I realized that my opponent was no longer in the air. In my fury and heat of battle, I had unleashed my attack without control over it. I did not even know that I had attacked him.  
  
And yet, he lay on the ground, a crumbled figure, wings pent pitifully. Blood dribbled from his serpentine mouth, and his neck was craned in an awkward position, too awkward to be considered normal.  
  
I descended, letting the Magick, the unquenchable power recede back into me, dormant once more. With the loss of Magick went the hatred and bloodshed. My arms began to tremble, fingers twitching uncontrollably. I looked up, speechless, towards the others, my mouth hanging open trying to form some sort of coherent apology.  
  
Several of the others backed away from me.  
  
A hand suddenly clasped over my shoulder. Startled, I turned around, though I sensed his presence before I saw him.  
  
A pair of cold blue eyes stared back at me, emotionless. "That's enough, Yami."  
  
I bowed, head low. "Yes. master."  
  
********************************************************  
  
Wounds usually heal within time, as years pass by. Eventually, the tension between the green-eyed youth, Taesil, and I eased; we learned fighting tips from each other and a tentative friendship grew from our once- petty rivalry. Encouraged by the act, the other peers of the clan eventually began to accept me. In between lessons with Seto, I learned with them, fought and tousled with them. Even when they assumed their draconic forms to hunt or just fly, I would go amongst them on my Magick-crafted dragon wings.  
  
True, I may not be one of them physically. Yet, as one of the peers kindly put it, I really had taken a place as one of them in heart.  
  
It touched me to know that they accepted me; that I was one of them; that I belonged to somewhere now.  
  
It made me ill prepared for the confrontation ahead.  
  
**************************************************  
  
Someone burst into my resting place, shaking me vigorously by the shoulders. Groggily, I forced my eyes open. A look of urgency was etched in the messenger's eyes.  
  
"Yami. The upper hallway. T-"  
  
I was up and out the exit before I heard his last words. Even as I ran, I could hear the anxious murmurs amongst the others. As I filtered through the crowd gathered on the top floor, I could make out a flicker of emerald green.  
  
I sucked in a harsh breath, and my mind seemed to slow down to a stop.  
  
Lying halfway between the cave entrance and the inside recesses of the hallway was a dragon of scarlet and green. At least, I thought was of a mixed hue until I noticed the way the crimson dribbled down freely across the dragon's back. I smelt the reek of blood everywhere on the creature. And still, my mind refused to acknowledge him.  
  
I stood there, numb, watching the fallen creature with half-closed eyes. A heavy wooden spear still stuck out from the dragon's chest, though both had long stopped moving. The creature's eyes were wide open, clouded in an expression of indignation and surprise.  
  
Someone nudged me; it was one of the Elders. "Yami. Whoever killed Taesil left a mark on him. Seto said you might recognize it."  
  
Numbly, I walked under the Elder's guide. My mind was screaming that it was impossible - how could a _dragon_ be killed? I quivered slightly as the Elder's gnarled hands pointed to the dragon's flank. Etched deeply into the skin, piercing through the scales cleanly was a single, glowing insignia. The blood had long dried, though the marking was clear: a single eye-shaped structure represented by two arching horizontal lines.  
  
The Sennen Eye. The mark of the Royal Family of Egypt and of the Pharaoh.  
  
My face must have blanched. For the next moment, people, both ones I knew and had never met, were pressing against me, asking me who it was, demanding to know what they were up against. Jaws clamped painfully shut, I could only shake my head. Everything was spinning around me.  
  
_They_ were coming; my father and his elite group of hunters, of slayers. I doubted they knew I was here. They had come to destroy everything 'demonic'.  
  
Bitterness overwhelmed me. It was always like that, my father assuming the superior role, an arrogant gleam of confidence set on his face.  
  
No, he was not my father nor mentor. My master was Seto and my kindred the dragons. My blood-father had never taught me anything, always an aloof, distant figure who barely visited me save to reprimand my every actions. No, he was not my father anymore - Seto had been a wiser and closer guardian than my actual one.  
  
The _Pharaoh_ of Egypt was threatening to destroy my clan. That, and nothing else.  
  
The words flowed, full of spite and malice from my tongue. I felt like an oracle, an omen of ill fortune. "The Pharaoh of Egypt is coming. He will attack with his army at nightfall. It is his will that he rids all of Egypt of anything not-human." Excluding himself and his army, of course. Yet, I couldn't admit the truth. I refused to acknowledge the Pharaoh as my father.  
  
Everyone had snapped into full awareness. The news lying fearfully in their hearts had been awakened, spurring both urgency and anger. I stood there, watching everyone rush off, watching several Healers drag the corpse away. The stench of blood was fresh in my mind.  
  
"He's coming, the Pharaoh."  
  
I did not bother to turn around. I had felt Seto's presence near me a while ago.  
  
"What will you say to him? Which way will you fight?"  
  
"I _hate_ him." The words spat angrily from my mouth before I could reign it back in. "I'll go out and destroy him before he can even come close to here."  
  
It never occurred to me exactly how old Seto was. Even among the Elders, the blue-eyed figure seemed older, hiding a deeper and more ancient secret. None of the others spoke about it; though there had been hints of Seto being 'not what he seemed'. It also occurred to me that I had never seen my master's dragon form.  
  
Seto stared at me for a long time. "Brash words, prince of Egypt. Your royal lineage is notorious for its arrogance."  
  
My cheeks burned but I wisely held my tongue. I glared at the blue- eyed figure. I would show him and my entire clan exactly where my loyalty lay and erase their lingering doubts about me.  
  
It never occurred to me exactly how Seto knew my true identity.  
  
********************************************  
  
Midnight arrived too quickly.  
  
We snuck into the half-moonlit desert not on dragon wing as our enemies would have thought, but as seemingly harmless humans.  
  
I walked amongst them, cloak hooded to cover up my prominent hairstyle. I had tried several times to tame my hair, though it seemed to unnaturally jut out no matter what I did to it. Seto walked in the back alone but I could feel the strong aura of his presence, reassuring.  
  
We suddenly stopped. A forerunner had scouted the scene, relaying all actions to us. I caught the message that the Pharaoh was moving at a startling pace on horseback towards the dwelling. We needed to intercept them before they got there.  
  
Our group, about a hundred or so of us, moved quickly. We immediately doubled back, taking a shortcut through the cool desert sands in hopes of catching up to the Pharaoh and his army in time. None of us were foolish enough to expose ourselves in the air; though I knew that arrows were repelled by dragon-hide. Our attack relied purely on the element of surprise.  
  
My nocturnal abilities allowed me to spot them before anyone else. I gazed spitefully at the rising sandcloud in the distance, and I could vaguely hear the rumbling of hooves pounding against the once-silent desert. I informed those next to me, the message travelling quickly until we were all prepared. The younger ones, my friends, were nervous, excited, and edgy. Truthfully, I felt sick, both physically and at heart. I had loathed facing this inevitable battle.  
  
The drumming of hooves grew louder, and we lay low on the desert ground, just like how I had unwittingly done so long ago. I was older now, more experienced, but my past memories still haunted me. I wanted to be rid of them forever.  
  
The pounding was now incredibly close, throbbing by my ears. I forgot who hissed "Now!", if there was such a person, but we were immediately upon the horseback army. I paused just a moment to analyze the scene, watching in half-awe as my dragon-shifted clan tore at the Pharaoh's army like children at a toy fest. Horses and warriors alike scattered in panic, belatedly drawing their weapons. Streams of flame erupted from the dragons' jaws, incinerating enemies alive, creating a massacre of burning flesh and screaming, flailing bodies.  
  
I believed I nearly retched as my eyes tore up the sight. Nevertheless, I plunged into the thicket of the battle, mind set on only one target.  
  
He rode on his pure white stallion, eyes regal and confident even as his scattered lines screamed and fell. With a loud, majestic shout, he signalled for his ranks to collect, gathering them into a ragged line.  
  
I caught the gleam of blackened metal in their arrow shafts and my heart plummeted.  
  
"Get back!" I screamed despite myself, despite the roar of battle and the triumphant cries of the dragons. "Don't get near them!"  
  
It was too late.  
  
I had heard of these weapons a long time ago. They were supposedly infused with Magick, burning with a livid, explosive substance. It was nicknamed 'liquid fire'.  
  
Had it been just fire, the gel-like substance would have collected harmlessly on the dragons' scales and then dissipated. But it was not so benign. I watched helplessly as the Pharaoh's warriors drew arrows of the gleaming substance and launched them into the air. Those whom the substance hit immediately burst into brilliant blue flames, body writhing and screeching in agony.  
  
I was dumbfounded. The sensations of the past, the attack against those bird-humans flashed in my mind. I was briefly struck with a moment of fear, wondering again if the winged beasts would capture me, when everything once again resettled. I _was_ one of them; the Pharaoh was my enemy.  
  
Friends whom I had flown with, others who were too slow to dodge the attacks shrieked piteously as they combusted with unquenchable flames. They sizzled, too bright for my eyes to gaze at, burning flesh and bones alike. Dragons that had once soared majestically in the sky lay twisted and twitching as they were reduced into smouldering ashes before they hit the ground.  
  
I watched, horrified, unable to act.  
  
A sudden behemoth of pure white shot across my vision. I watched, stunned, as the chrome-plated creature spread its large wings the moment another volley of liquid fire hurtled towards the vulnerable dragons. The creature, a dragon unlike one I had ever seen, pivoted its wings and absorbed as much of the attack as possible. The liquid splattered against its plated hide and wings as harmlessly as water.  
  
I knew who the dragon was before it stared at me deliberately with its lapis lazuli-blue eyes. Cold blue eyes wizened and isolated by experience.  
  
The pure white dragon [4] pivoted in mid-air, sweeping its sheath- like wings underneath it before diving towards the ranks of opponents. Its claws gouged the enemy lines, scattering warriors and horses alike. A burst of sizzling, electrical Magick escaped its jaws, creating miniscule explosions in its wake.  
  
And yet, the Pharaoh was unscathed. Deserted by his panicking warriors, yes, but untouched. Seto had left the Pharaoh for me.  
  
I wished I could just stand there and watch. Yet, I would be accused of being the coward, and who was I to shirk from battle when my friends had died selflessly before me? Wasn't I here to avenge my clan?  
  
Taking one last deep breath, I ran towards the still figure of my sole opponent. My feet did not stop until I reached him. I stood in front of his regal figure, looking up at the Pharaoh and his white stallion.  
  
The Pharaoh inhaled sharply, staring down incredulously at me. He dismounted the stallion. "Yami."  
  
I took a step back as he reached to touch my shoulders. I could feel his eyes, his unchanged face stare at me, almost too approvingly. He was looking at my cold face, my stubborn frown, slightly-tanned skin, and firm muscles. And for a single moment, I wanted no more than to embrace him, cry to him like the lost child I was, explaining what had happened over the years.  
  
The cry of the dragons brought me back to reality. There was no sentimental pity here.  
  
"Pharaoh." I nearly shivered at the icy tone of my own voice. "You come to attack my kindred. I stand in your way."  
  
The Pharaoh looked at me oddly. "I apologize for-"  
  
"-Killing my friends?" I smiled, not too nicely. "Why thank you." The bow I gave him was curt, mocking. Yes, thank you very much for locking me up in the palace for so many years and then abandoning me when I needed you. Bitterness clenched deepest in my heart.  
  
Surprise, then indignation spread across the Pharaoh of Egypt's expression. I could see etched lines of weariness on his otherwise meticulously youthful face; a face as ageless and startlingly similar as my own. We could have passed for brothers. "This is no time for playing games. Just move aside, let us finish, and then I'll explain everything."  
  
I shook my head, almost sadly. "No, you don't need to explain anything, _Pharaoh_. I know what you are up to. I know exactly how you betrayed me."  
  
I wondered if that twisted expression on his face represented hurt or revulsion. My anger-filled mind told me it was the latter. I laughed, mocking him, the two of us isolated from everything else, a separate scene on a separate stage.  
  
"Yami." The Pharaoh was still trying to reason. "I don't want to hurt- "  
  
I interrupted him with a harsh, derisive bark of laughter. "You don't want to what? Hurt me? Tear up my soul and feed it to those harpies you fought? Why, how sentimental of you, how unlike your authoritative self, _Pharaoh_."  
  
I cannot remember if it was he or I who initiated the fight. Suddenly, the two of us were sizing each other up. He carried a trim silver sword while all I had was the weapon Seto had given me years ago, a thin dagger carved out of an intricate wood that glowed with a soft-green sheen.  
  
Both of us bared our weapons at each other, tentative to attack. I moved first, thrusting the dagger sideways and slapping the flat of the blade painfully against my opponent's shoulder. He was quick to react, shifting his sword to one side to pry the dagger loose. Both of us disengaged, looking at each other warily.  
  
I moved, dagger point aimed at my opponent's chest, though it was easily warded off by the sword. Metal clacked against wood. My dagger was unyielding to the harder silver. My hand hummed numbly from the impact.  
  
I felt the Magick before the Pharaoh released the attack. It was the same familiar essence that resided within me. Snarling, I thrust my dagger towards him, but I was repelled by the Magick, the energy throwing me several meters into the air.  
  
Helplessly airborne, I could only call upon my own Magick, letting the wings unfurl from my back to keep me from falling gracelessly. Instead of landing and discarding my wings on the ground, I thrust my wings in mid- air and quickly distanced myself several meters. Quickly discarding them, I fell in perfect timing onto the ground behind my opponent.  
  
The Pharaoh attempted to attack me with another burst of Magick, but I hastily counterbalanced it with the Magick with my own. Both energy- induced attacks collided in a burst of gleaming crimson light and clashing power before dissipating.  
  
My opponent grimaced, readying another blast, but I was already prepared. I grabbed a fistful of the desert sand and thrust it into his face, making him lose concentration as the grainy substance irritated his vision. I then summoned my own recesses of Magick, pooling as much as possible without overtaxing myself.  
  
The sensation came immediately. The insignia was there, burning on my forehead, the energy overwhelming me. With the rush of more potent Magick came the desire to destroy, tear, kill; and this time, I did not push the feeling aside. Instead, I dwelled on the euphoria, veins saturated with power. Before my opponent could recover, I released my own Magick-induced blast of energy, watching it slam like a barrier against him.  
  
He did nothing to block the attack. He did not even construct a shield as the blow hit him full force, sending him plummeting into the air and then painfully back onto the ground.  
  
I quickly sped towards his prone figure. I raised my dagger, watching its eerie green glow collect in the moonlight.  
  
My opponent looked at me, defeated. His sword had been blasted harmlessly away, and he was lying prone on the sand. He did not even bother to struggle.  
  
I gazed at him, full of rage and hatred, the Magick fuelling my body with a carnal desire to destroy. For a moment, the fingers grasping my dagger quivered, a slip of conscience escaping my euphoria, but it was soon banished. The sadistic nature of the Magick residing within me had prevailed again.  
  
The dagger plunged blade-first into my opponent's chest, sinking deep into his pumping heart. I twisted it a few times, listening to the squelch of the blood collecting on his clothing, hearing the thudding of his heart slow down.  
  
I breathed heavily, in spite of my trembling body. Raw emotions roiled within me, venomous, angry, victorious. "So you die, _Pharaoh_."  
  
"Of course, my son." Hands not even straying to touch or remove the dagger, the Pharaoh closed his eyes. A small smile played on his lips.  
  
I wanted to strangle him. He was mocking me. Somehow, he was triumphant, even in death. When sunlight came, his body would burn, twist into miserable ashes and fade away forever. I would never have to see it again.  
  
His eyes stared at me vacantly. Their blank visage, so calm and confident, told me otherwise.  
  
*************************************************  
  
A snake without its head soon loses interest in life. Thus, the remainder of the Pharaoh's army, the ones who were not slain or left mortally injured, fled. Thus ended the reign of the Pharaoh Akunamukanon. I wondered who would succeed him in throne. Perhaps a human, ready to explain how Egypt had been possessed by a demon and would now prosper again under mortal blood? The secret, the truth, would be quickly revealed.  
  
Daylight had come again. I watched as the golden disc of Ra spread over the littered bodies, withering and then disintegrating the slain members of the Pharaoh's army. I watched the Pharaoh's regal face loose its handsome beauty, shrivelling up into a gross, contorted mask before drying up completely and crackling into fine dust. Dust that could not be distinguished from the millions upon billions of grains of desert sand.  
  
Seto was standing behind me again, indifferent but solemn. My clan, my kind, were picking up the fallen dragon bodies and carrying them away in a silent, mournful procession.  
  
My mind was numb and my chest ached painfully.  
  
"So they're gone. The battle is over."  
  
I nodded mutely. Something wet was collecting on my eyes, and I hastily wiped it away with my blood-stained hand.  
  
"The Pharaoh Akunamukanon." Seto shrugged at the name. "He has ruled Egypt for a long time. Once, before this fated conflict occurred, I dared to fight him. It was before his conquest to destroy all 'demons', and he spared my life by teaching me a lesson."  
  
I glanced sharply at Seto. The blue-eyed figure unclasped his tarnished cloak and craned his head to one side. Emblazoned on the side of his bare neck was a red marking, consisting of two symmetrical curves joined to form an eye-like pattern. The Sennen Eye had been carved crudely onto his skin like a tattoo.  
  
I wondered, annoyed, why Seto was showing me this; what kind of irony lay in his words. It clicked.  
  
Even with Magick, I doubted I could defeat Seto. And for the late Pharaoh to be able to defeat Seto - his power would have been out of my league. If he had had the will to fight...  
  
But he didn't. He had ruled for a long time.  
  
The Pharaoh, my _father_ had deliberately let me win because he knew it was his time. He knew that, though immortal, he would be succeeded by another.  
  
You see, though a human would seize the mortal throne of Egypt, the immortal throne, passed through my ancestors, still resided in my blood. I was the Pharaoh of the night-hunters, of the handful left scattered in the world. I wondered if they knew; if they would hate me for it, for betraying their kind.  
  
We, mortals and immortals alike, have an innate desire to be special, unique, immune to the spiteful properties of life. How vicious, how proud I had been in that moment when I had triumphed over my father and gained false vengeance.  
  
And now that the gross reality hit me, I realized exactly how distorted my false emotions and illusions had been. The hurricane of reality, of life, was at last sucking me in.  
  
Amazing how life can change with just one sentence, one truth.  
  
I believe I cried then. I fell on my knees onto the sandy ground and wept bitterly, because I was overwhelmed, because I had deceived myself, because I could not fully understand what I had done. I sobbed like a mewling kitten without dignity or self-restraint as the hot desert air pounded my face and the sun god Ra stared mutely at me with its disc-like visage.  
  
I don't need truths in my life. I only wish for the wisdom to realize them.  
  
End Part 1  
  
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End notes:  
  
[1] Units of time back in my youth.  
  
[2] A quote Zoo told me was appropriate for the moment.  
  
[3] I do realize that they now have cards called 'Duel Monsters', though that is not to be mistaken with these duels  
  
[4] Apparently, some people argue that the Blue Eyes White Dragon is a female. I assure you that Seto is very male. 


End file.
